Two roads diverged
by CJK
Summary: After months spent in hiding Elissa Cousland finds a new Ferelden -- with a Grey Warden usurping Queen Anora's throne. AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Elissa tensed as she heard hoof beats outside, but relaxed again as a glance from behind the curtains revealed the rider to be Arl Bryland. She met him downstairs in the tiny parlour, realising with some surprise that he wore court finery instead of travelling clothes under his cloak.

"My darling girl," Bryland said, as usual, sweeping her into a tight hug. "How are you?" His smiling, youthful face was relaxed, but there was an odd shadow in his eyes.

"Keeping busy, my lord. My mother would have been proud of my needlework now," Elissa said lightly. It was true; months of forced "leisure" had given her nothing to do but read and practice her sewing and embroidery.

"Your mother was proud of you in any case," Bryland said roughly, and pulled her towards the couch. "Come, sit, and tell me about the last month."

"Would you like some refreshment, Your Grace?" Elissa asked automatically. "I will have the cook—"

"No," Bryland said. "I'm afraid I have very little time to spare, but I wanted to see how you were before I went to Denerim."

"Denerim?" Elissa asked, ruthlessly suppressing her disappointment in favour of good manners. Bryland did his best to see her as often as he could without putting her or himself in jeopardy; it would not do to hang onto him like a barnacle just because he was her only lifeline to the world outside the tiny house.

Bryland unclasped his cloak and almost fell onto the couch, leaning back with a sigh. "Ah, how I hate riding. And yes, Denerim. Arl Eamon has called a Landsmeet."

Elissa blinked in surprise and perched on a chair across from Bryland. "A Landsmeet during the Blight? At this time of the year? Whatever is going on, Your Grace? We have heard the strangest rumours here."

"As far as I could make out, Eamon had an ace up his sleeve, a bast—natural son of Maric's, raised by Eamon in secret. He is apparently one of those Grey Wardens who escaped from Ostagar. Eamon wants to use the boy to challenge Loghain's claim to the throne."

"Teyrn Loghain's claim?" Elissa asked. "What about Queen Anora?"

Bryland waved a hand tiredly. "A formality only, it seems. They say Loghain has her all but locked away." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "Howe has proclaimed himself Arl of Denerim and is said to be Loghain's lieutenant in all things – which was by far not the worst mistake of Loghain's. The whole country is in uproar. There will be a civil war as likely as not, whatever the outcome of the Landsmeet."

Elissa struggled to keep an even expression, despite the mention of Howe's name. "But the Blight… Leonas, we can't afford to fight each other when there's darkspawn all over the country now. Most of the South is taken, they say, and if we waste our resources on—"

"Yes, yes," Bryland said, and his expression was dark now. "You were always a smart girl, my dear. This is going to cost us the entire country, if we don't put a stop to it. I…" he broke off and looked away briefly. "Elissa, you know I loved Bryce like a brother, and you are as dear to me as a daughter."

"Yes, and I am very grateful to you for hiding me here, at such danger to yourself and your family," Elissa said woodenly. She knew what he was going to say now; it was obvious. "You are going to side with Loghain, aren't you?"

Bryland avoided her eyes. "If I must, yes. We need a united, strong Ferelden to defeat the Blight. You said it yourself: we cannot afford to waste our men on fighting each other when the country is in such danger." He sighed. "I will make arrangements for you, should I have to march under Loghain's banner, to move you to a safer place. I do not intend to let Howe know you've survived. You will be safe, whatever happens."

"Unless the darkspawn find me first," Elissa said darkly. She took a deep breath. "But you are right. It's war, and even if Loghain was stupid enough to take Howe as an ally, he is still probably our best hope to unite Ferelden. He was King Maric's best friend, after all, and the king trusted him." She looked down. "I just hope Loghain still has enough sense to never let Howe get close enough to stab him in the back."

"Maric loved him like a brother, and Loghain was always renown for his grasp of strategy," Bryland said with another sigh. "Such terrible times, my girl. It was so much easier when we just had to drive out the Orlesians."

"Fereldan politics," Elissa said with a forced smile. "Father said there was nothing better for giving you indigestion."

Bryland gave her a tired smile. "Ah, yes, that he did." He stood up and ran a hand over her hair, then reached down for her hand. "My darling girl, I will protect you, whatever happens. Howe will never get to you, that I swear on my life and my honour as a Bryland."

Elissa stood as well. "Please be careful, Leonas. Not for my sake; for yours. You risked enough for the Couslands, I think. Your family needs you."

Bryland grimaced. "And on that note, I am taking Habren with me to Denerim."

"Andraste's grace, why?" Elissa said involuntarily. "Hasn't she caused enough trou—I mean, oh." She felt herself blush.

To her relief, Bryland just laughed. "Precisely for that reason, my dear. I want her where I can watch her. Besides, maybe the shopping in Denerim will distract her from—well. I don't even want to know what she is doing, most of the time." He sighed again, wearily. "I don't remember you being that troublesome when you were her age."

"Oh, that's because you weren't at Highever often enough, Your Grace," Elissa said wryly. "Both Father and Mother claimed I was solely responsible for most of their grey hairs, _especially _at that age."

Unexpectedly, Bryland enveloped her in another tight hug. "I miss Bryce," he said roughly into her hair. "I cannot even imagine what you… oh, my girl, I am so sorry."

Elissa bit her lips until her eyes stopped stinging. "Be safe, Leonas," she said when she could trust her voice. "Survive the Landsmeet, survive the Blight, and return home to your family. And thank you for everything, whatever happens now."

Bryland picked up his cloak and stroked a hand tenderly over Elissa's cheek. "Your parents would be so proud," he said. "You are a true Cousland and an admirable young woman in your own right. It was a privilege to be able to assist you, my lady."

Elissa watched from the parlour window as he mounted his horse, wincing. She raised a hand and saw him return the gesture, before he urged his horse on and disappeared around the bend in the lane.

~o0o~

Weeks passed slowly. Each day of unrelenting boredom – although her blackwork embroidery was indeed very good now – brought little news but more fear. Elissa never left the house herself, and neither did the cook and the maid now. The bodyguard posing as gardener, Mikhal, whose chores included weekly rides to the nearest village for supplies, brought back little but rumours to go with the increasingly meagre food.

Darkspawn had been sighted everywhere, that was one thing everybody agreed on. People were fleeing north or to Denerim, abandoning farms and houses, which were promptly looted and robbed by their less scrupulous neighbours. Of the Landsmeet the people knew little, and opinions were split while rumours grew increasingly bizarre: Teyrn Loghain had killed Queen Anora and assumed the throne. The Wardens had killed the Queen as they had killed the King. The Circle Tower had fallen and demons were swarming the countryside as far away as Redcliffe, set free by murderous mages. Dalish were raiding farms as far as Lothering or the Southron hills. Werewolves had been sighted, and some of them spoke and told tales. The Wardens had gone to Orzammar to kill the dwarven king. The Wardens had been killed in Orzammar. The Wardens were travelling with a golem, an army of witches and a tame werewolf. The Wardens were going to Denerim to kill the Queen and Teyrn Loghain…

"Enough, Mikhal," Elissa said wearily. "Let us worry about the darkspawn for now, or Howe's men, not the werewolves."

"A golem, really?" the maid asked in a hushed voice. She was equally young and easily distracted, and looked upon Mikhal as the fount of all worldly knowledge. Elissa quietly hoped Mikhal would stop at sharing knowledge of the carnal kind with the girl, as he didn't seem the kind to settle down.

"Golem or not," she said decisively, "we need to make sure the cellar door is secure, if we need to hide in a hurry. And we need to start stocking supplies, for when the village shop closes."

"Oh, will it?" the maid asked, her eyes huge. "Why?"

"Because half the farms lie abandoned, and nobody is brave enough to hunt when there is darkspawn about," Elissa said patiently.

"We have smoked meat and cheeses, my lady," the cook said thoughtfully. "Also some potatoes and grains, and apples. We will last a few weeks, even when the merchants close up, but longer than that…"

"Longer than that and we will have other worries," Elissa said grimly. "Or no worries at all. Mikhal, do you have enough boards to reinforce the cellar door?"

"Maker help us," the maid whispered, and for once, Elissa found herself in complete agreement.

Two weeks passed with little to show but a cellar door that would probably have withstood the often-mentioned golem, and yet another yard of intricate blackwork. Then, one day, Mikhal came back with his donkey cart almost empty but himself almost bursting with news.

"My lady, the Landsmeet; they say Teyrn Loghain is dead and one of the Wardens is the new king!"

Elissa stared, almost open-mouthed. "Oh, Maker. Please tell me this is another wild rumour."

"No, my lady. Everybody's saying it!" He pulled a sack of barley from his cart and shouldered it. "They say the Bannorn stands united behind the new king, and the army is gathering in Redcliffe to march against the darkspawn horde."

"What of the queen?" Elissa asked faintly. She hadn't known Anora very well, but if Loghain was dead and some Grey Warden crowned as king, she hated to think upon the fate of the poor woman. And if Loghain was dead, what had happened to Howe?

Mikhal shrugged. "They haven't said, my lady. I don't think anyone knows. But the army is marching, and the Grey Wardens are leading it. They say we might defeat the Blight yet!"

"Maker preserve us," Elissa whispered. There was not much more to be said.

The village was half-empty now, the merchants gone, and smoked meat their main source of food, when, another two weeks later, Mikhal ran into the house, unheeding of the dirt on his boots and now all over the rugs. "My lady! I just met old Calvin in the lane, and he said there was a huge battle in Denerim, with half the city laid waste, but they did it!"

"They did what?" Elissa asked, needlework clutched in her trembling hands.

"They killed a dragon, my lady, and they killed the darkspawn, most of it, and the Blight is over!"

Elissa swallowed. "Just like that? What about the army? How many casualties? Why in Denerim, what happened to Redcliffe?"

Mikhal shrugged. "I don't know, my lady. Oh. I'm sorry about the dirt."

Elissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Time would bring more news, she hoped.

They were still living off smoked meat, although people were slowly trickling back into the village, all bearing the same news as Calvin, when some days later Elissa was startled by hoof beats and voices yet again. With habitual caution she watched carefully from behind the curtains and was startled to see two men in armour approach the house. It was not a raiding party of Howe's, not with only two men, and a moment later she recognised Bryland's long brown hair, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

The other rider she couldn't immediately place, although there was something very familiar about him. He was tall and had shaggy, dark hair and…

"Maker," Elissa whispered. "Oh, _Maker_!"

She flew down the stairs and hurtled outside into the yard, tears streaming down her face. The world was blurry and she felt faint. "Fergus," she sobbed, "oh, Maker, Fergus, you're alive, you're alive!"

He caught her, laughing, and pressed her close in a hug unlike any they had shared, could have shared, in the past. "Elissa," he whispered hoarsely, and then they were both crying, heedless of their spectators and manners befitting the new teyrn of Highever and his sister.


	2. 1 Highever

Highever didn't feel like home any longer.

It was mostly the people, of course. Her parents Elissa tried not to think about, and she hadn't set foot in the pantry since her arrival. But it was also Oren's cheerful laugh and Oriana's soft Antivan's accent, Ser Gilmore's easy banter and Nan's scolding; all those things that had made Highever into a home instead of just a cold castle overlooking a port town.

Some of the familiar faces were still there, of course. A handful of knights had survived Ostagar and returned with Fergus, few of them unscarred and all of them withdrawn and silent. Some servants had managed to flee Howe's massacre and had likewise returned, but those familiar faces in the slowly growing household only served to highlight the many unfamiliar ones.

Fergus couldn't bear to sleep in his old room and had taken over the teyrn's suite, as was proper. The dark shadows under his eyes, however, clearly showed that he found little rest there either.

Elissa's own sleep was likewise restless; plagued with snatches of dreams and memories she did her best to forget in the morning. It also didn't help that the castle had been stripped of all valuables: not just the truly expensive items but also Bryce's and Eleanor's portraits and the Cousland family tapestries. Much of the furniture was damaged or soiled and had to be repaired, along with large parts of the masonry itself.

Sometimes Elissa caught herself wistfully thinking of Bryland's little house she had spent so many months in. Living there she had wished to be back at Highever every day. Now, when Highever was far more foreign to her than the hideout in the middle of nowhere, she wished herself… she didn't even know where. Away, anywhere but in this dreadful castle that dragged at her and Fergus like heavy weights on their shoulders.

Elissa supervised the repairs and the household, while Fergus travelled the teyrnir, inspecting it for damage and slowly trying to make the life in town and countryside return to normal. He avoided the castle as much as he could, often staying at inns in neighbouring villages, and while Elissa couldn't really fault him for it, she wished she could somehow escape as well. But what escape was there for a teyrn's spinster sister, tasked with making Castle Highever truly habitable again?

She spent hours with the castellan, discussing staff and supplies and sometimes even presiding over interviews with new servants. She listened to the knights' recommendations for promising new additions to their number and supervised the rebuilding and restocking of the armoury, the castle smithy and the training grounds. She practiced with them sometimes, slowly and methodically, appalled at her lost skills, blunted by months of forced idleness.

She even tried to take up embroidery again, when her thoughts wouldn't quieten and the walls of the castle pressed closer and closer. Sometimes she managed to escape into some mindless task or conversation that allowed her the numbness and freedom of not thinking. It didn't happen often, however, and she found herself staring at the flagstones or a strangely empty wall, listening for familiar voices in the halls and hearing none.

She thought she might be going crazy, something she had feared in her first weeks and months at Bryland's hideaway. Here, at Highever, the feeling was stronger than ever before.

One evening she found herself in the dim dining hall, sitting across from Fergus on one of his rare stays at the castle. They had forgone protocol and ordered the settings placed at corner of the table, where they could talk freely.

"You're going to hit me," Elissa began, picking at her fish. It was a familiar opening from their childhood, and had often been followed by a playful punch to the shoulder.

Now Fergus didn't even look up from his plate. "Hmm?"

"I'm really sorry I'm saying this," Elissa continued hesitantly, "and I _know_ that it's terrible, believe me, I do know, but—"

"But you think I need to get married again," Fergus said hollowly, still not looking up. "The teyrnir needs an heir, right?"

Elissa lowered her eyes as well. "Yes, but I'm not thinking about the teyrnir. I'm worried about you. You need—someone. You cannot go on like this."

Fergus did look up then. "Someone? A woman I'll make miserable despite my best efforts because she'll always be followed by Oriana's ghost? Any child she will give me will be compared to Oren, and she will have to live in this tomb of a castle…" He sighed. "Do you want to be released from your responsibilities here, is that it? I know it hasn't been easy for you—"

"Don't be an ass, Fergus," Elissa said tiredly. "It hasn't been very easy for you, either. I don't mind my responsibilities; at least they give me some peace, sometimes. But you are alone, and you lost so much… I worry about you, you oaf."

"Silly girl," Fergus said, and reached out across the table to tap her on the forehead with a finger. "We will survive. The Couslands always—"

"Look at us," Elissa said tiredly, not having enough energy for anger. "We _are_ the Couslands now. There is nobody else. Nobody will be able to replace Oriana and Oren, nor," she swallowed, "nor Father and M-mother. But you need someone, Fergus. You are slipping away, one day at a time, and sometimes I wonder if you will ever come back here to this—tomb of a castle, when you're gone on one of your trips."

He looked down at his plate again. "I will never leave you again," he said quietly. "Not if I can help it. Had I known you were alive, all those months, I would have walked naked through the darkspawn horde to get to you. I promise you, you idiot; I'm staying."

Elissa blinked back unexpected tears. "Naked? They would have fled in horror," she said thickly. "I still remember the Frog Accident."

"Oh, you," he said, but there was a tiny smile on his lips, and that was something.

~o0o~

It was a cold spring afternoon, all biting wind and leaden sky, when there were shouts at the gates the clatter of many hooves. Swallowing instinctive panic, Elissa closed the book of household accounts and closed her inkwell before slowly standing up to look out of the window. Knights with familiar black and green shields were milling about in the yard below, as well as some with a design she vaguely recognised: a ship's steering wheel atop a blue wave.

Considering the general mood at the castle and her own state, Elissa was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected arrivals; something that ordinarily should have thrown her into a tizzy about unprepared rooms and insufficient entertainment. Smiling and genuinely happy for the first time since, it seemed, her arrival at Highever, she hurried downstairs.

Arl Bryland, dressed in travelling leathers and a fine cloak, spotted her as soon as she entered the yard and shouldered himself through the mob of knights and horses to sweep her into the familiar, bone-crushing hug.

"My dear girl," he boomed, "it has been too long; I am sorry, I should have come sooner."

Elissa was horrified to find herself near tears. For so long Bryland had been her only friend and protector; to see him now was both wonderful and unexpectedly painful. "Your Grace," she began, "how good to—"

"Nonsense," he said briskly. "You used to call me by my name before."

Elissa give him a sincere smile; her first in many weeks. "Leonas, it's wonderful to see you. Fergus is away, but we are expecting him back tomorrow."

"Good," Bryland said, then turned to somebody, not letting go of her shoulder. "Elissa, do you remember Bann Alfstanna of Waking Sea?"

Elissa curtseyed automatically and held out a hand. "My lady."

Alfstanna, a slight woman with piercing green eyes, had an impressively strong handshake. "Lady Elissa, it is a pleasure to see you again. Leonas has been telling me much of your courage and strength in facing your hardships."

"Leonas is too sentimental," Elissa said dryly, which, while true, didn't lessen her pleasure at the compliment. "I am honoured by your presence. My parents always spoke very highly of you. How is your brother?"

Alfstanna sighed. "Not very well. He was ill for a long time, and is still quite weak. He is recovering at the Chantry in Denerim now."

"Oh," Elissa said, uncertain of what pitfall she had unknowingly stumbled into. "I am sorry to hear it."

"Howe, the bastard, had him locked up in his dungeons," Bryland said angrily. "And Irmnric wasn't the only prisoner there, either."

Elissa swallowed down the blind panic that always overcame her at the mention of Howe's name, even though she knew the man was dead. "Oh."

"They say the Wardens – that is, King Alistair and the Dragonslayer – killed Howe with their own hands," Alfstanna said with relish.

"The Dragonslayer?" Elissa asked in puzzlement. And Maker, it was good to hear about somebody putting Howe to justice.

"The Warden who died slaying the archdemon and ended the Blight," Bryland explained. "They're calling him the Dragonslayer now. Have you heard about Amaranthine?"

"I heard a rumour that the new king gave the entire arling to the Grey Wardens," Elissa said hesitantly. "But I don't know—"

Alfstanna nodded briskly. "It's true. They don't need the arling, of course; just a fortress to train and live at. They deserve that and more after what they've done for us."

Elissa blinked at the onslaught of information, and then remembered her manners. "I apologise, my lady, Leonas. Let us go somewhere warmer while your rooms are being prepared."

She caught the castellan, who was looking wide-eyed with panic, on their way to the main hall and whispered quick arrangements about dinner and sleeping accommodations into his ear before joining Bryland and Alfstanna on the seats before the fire.

"Maker's breath, what happened here?" Bryland said as Elissa sat down. "It looks like a different place: the furniture, the ornaments…" He eyed a dented suit of armour that had been brought in from the family quarters to serve as makeshift decoration.

"Well," Elissa said wryly, "what Howe's men didn't burn they did their best to break or piss on, begging your ladyship's pardon. We had to replace most of the furnishings; some parts of the castle are still bare. Your rooms should be prepared in short order, but I'm afraid your knights will have to lodge in the barracks with our men."

"That is perfectly acceptable," Alfstanna said. Her voice softened. "You poor girl, I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you to come back here, after—" Elissa must have let her expression slip for a moment because Alfstanna shook her head abruptly. "No matter; I apologise for the intrusion. Now, what have you and the teyrn been doing? Has there been much damage by the Blight this far north?"

"None at all," Elissa said, torn between gratitude and annoyance, "if you discount the tide of refugees. It's not even a bad thing, overall, that some decided to stay. Fergus is trying to get everything organised, and doing very well, too. The port and the warehouses are working at full strength again, and we've just had the first ships from Antiva dock last week. But it's a quiet, provincial life here in the North. Do tell me what is happening in the city. How fares," she couldn't quite disguise her grimace, "the new king?"

Bryland and Alfstanna exchanged a glance she couldn't interpret.

"Not too badly, for such a young man," Bryland said carefully. "He has much to learn yet, of course, but for now, when the main task is rebuilding Denerim – the entire country, really – there are few missteps he can make."

Elissa shook her head. "I truly don't understand. The Landsmeet deposed Teyrn Loghain and allowed his execution because he had too much power over the throne, and yet they let Arl Eamon's puppet rule Ferelden? I know he was one of those who saved us from the Blight, but is he a wise choice for the peacetime?"

Bryland gave a short laugh. "Eamon _wishes_ the king was his puppet! There are more advisors crawling over the king than flies over a dog's carcass."

Alfstanna wrinkled her nose. "Charming, Leonas. And then you wonder about Habren's manners." She turned to Elissa. "The king is young and inexperienced, but he is not stupid. So far he is holding out against the pressure, but of course there are fears that he will succumb and become, as you said, the puppet of one side or the other. Not necessarily Eamon, though; surprisingly the king seems to hold him in no particular esteem."

"Is he really Maric's son?" Elissa asked. "There have always been rumours about Maric, of course, but..."

Bryland nodded. "He is, yes. Apparently even Cailan knew about him, and told Anora."

Elissa swallowed. "The queen – he didn't execute her, did he?"

"She isn't the queen any longer," Alfstanna said firmly. "And no, she is alive – they don't say where she is being kept, but people are allowed to request to meet her, and then she is brought to Fort Drakon for the meetings. She says she's being treated very well, considering."

"Considering a usurper is sitting on her husband's throne when it's barely cooled?" Elissa said. At their expressions she threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't speak about the king of Ferelden in such a disrespectful way, but when the king is a nobody, and a Grey Warden – aren't they supposed to not interfere in politics? – and has apparently single-handedly killed the only other teyrn in Ferelden other than my brother and then assumed Anora's throne… what is one to think?"

"There were… exceptional circumstances," Bryland said slowly. "Evidence against Loghain was presented to the Landsmeet, by Anora as well as by Arl Eamon and the Warden, and it was clear that Loghain could not stay in power any longer. And this bast—son of Maric's was the only other choice."

"There was talk about marrying him to Anora," Alfstanna said, "but nothing came out of it. And you are too hasty, Lady Elissa. Kings of stranger ancestry have ruled Ferelden, and ruled it well. So far there is no cause to complain about the boy."

"And when there will be?" Elissa asked. "What then? Another Landsmeet, another civil war? Ferelden needs a strong king. Was the evidence against Teyrn Loghain truly so compelling that a stranger, a _boy_, was the better choice?"

"Yes," Alfstanna said firmly. "Yes, it was. I don't know how much of what Loghain has done was due to Howe, but there were… terrible things."

Remembering what Bryland had said about Alfstanna's brother, Elissa lowered her head. "Well, then I join you in the hope that the new king will be a blessing for Ferelden. Maker knows, we need one."

Bryland and Alfstanna exchanged another glance, but before either could speak a servant came in to announce that their rooms were ready, if their lordships wanted to refresh themselves before dinner.

Dinner itself was a source of considerable pride for Elissa. They'd always had enough fish in Highever, of course, but now the cook had outdone herself, also producing roasted boar with mushroom sauce as the main course and Orlesian confections for dessert. The extravagant dishes would doubtlessly play havoc with the carefully managed household budget Elissa had spent weeks working on, but it was worth it. She owed her life to Bryland, and feeding him well was the least she could do.

When only the desserts and the strong spirits remained on the table and the servants were gone, Alfstanna leaned back in her chair and fixed Elissa with a direct gaze. "Leonas said to wait, to ease you into the idea slowly, but I think he underestimates you. So I shall be blunt."

"Alfstanna!" Bryland said hurriedly, almost choking on his brandy before he put his glass down. "Not when we've only just arrived!"

"What, and keep her in suspense as to why you took me and half our knights along, if a cosy family friend's visit is all you intended?" Alfstanna said dryly. "No, she deserves the truth."

Not liking this one bit, Elissa carefully put her spoon down and straightened in her seat. "What is your ladyship's meaning?"

Alfstanna steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair. "When we were discussing the new king, earlier, we touched on most of the issues that worry the Landsmeet, or at least the part of it that is more concerned with preventing another civil war than with manoeuvring for power in the shadows."

Elissa nodded cautiously.

"His youth and lack of experience," Alfstanna counted off on her fingers, "his potential weakness as a ruler and thus his potential to become the puppet, as you said, of some noble or a group of them. His shaky status as Maric's heir, a status which means very little, in the end, because it's not his blood that is ruling Ferelden, but the man himself."

"Unless you're a traditionalist like Eamon who thinks a king of the Theirin line is all that Ferelden will ever need," Bryland said darkly. "That man disregarded one of the most capable queens Ferelden had in generations just because she was not of royal blood."

Alfstanna nodded. "Precisely. But the conservative voices in the Landsmeet need to be accounted for as well."

Bryland shrugged impatiently, and reached over to pour himself more brandy.

"His status as a Grey Warden – and I gather that is somehow connected to the heir issue as well," Alfstanna continued.

"What did he do before he joined the Wardens?" Elissa asked curiously. "I heard they take anyone, if one shows enough skill."

"He, ah, was trained as a templar," Bryland said, looking uncomfortable.

"Maker's breath, an oath-breaker?" Elissa exclaimed. This was getting better and better.

"He never took his vows, the Grand Cleric said, and she would know," Alfstanna pointed out. "Apparently he only trained as one."

"So he wasn't trained for _anything_?" Elissa asked. "Other than fighting and hunting mages – which will be _incredibly_ useful for him now."

"That's about it," Bryland said. "But you mustn't forget, he was part of the handful of people who not only united Ferelden but also managed to convince the Dalish and the dwarves to fight on our side to end the Blight. They apparently also sorted out the succession war in Orzammar, too, though the dwarves are close-mouthed on such matters."

"Yes, but that was about ending the Blight. It merely sounds as if he and that Dragonslayer of his were good Grey Wardens. It doesn't follow that he will he a good _king_."

Alfstanna nodded. "Exactly." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "What he needs is somebody to support him, somebody with political knowledge and experience, somebody from an old, almost royal, Fereldan family, which would stabilise his shaky position as Maric's bastard." She paused, looking directly at Elissa. "Somebody to give him an heir who would unite the two most important families in the country."

Elissa jerked back in her chair, hitting the back of her head on the wood. "You are _joking_," she said desperately. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Well, my girl," Bryland said, and Elissa felt irrationally betrayed, "who better than you? You have the knowledge; I know Bryce and Eleanor trained you well. You have the experience, especially now that you have been rebuilding Highever almost single-handedly. And, well, Bryce would have been king instead of Cailan if the conservatives hadn't had their way, six years ago. You are a _Cousland_, Elissa. You know what that means."

"Duty," Elissa said through numb lips. "We Couslands do what must be done."

Bryland nodded, looking away. "Bryce's motto, yes."

"We are not going to abduct you and marry you off to the king without your consent, Lady Elissa," Alfstanna said calmly. "But it is something to consider, don't you think? At the very least you should meet him and form your own opinion."

Elissa shook her head. "I—I don't know what to think." Forgoing her manners, she stood up, gathering the shreds of her sanity around her like a cloak. "My lord, my lady, the hour is late. Maybe we should continue this discussion tomorrow, when my brother returns. He is my guardian and my liege-lord, after all."

Neither Bryland not Alfstanna mentioned her severe breach of protocol. They both simply stood up as well and waited as Elissa called for servants to guide her guests to their rooms. Both bid her incongruously polite goodnights.

Elissa stayed standing, staring into nothing, her mind awhirl. Had the entire world gone mad, or was it merely Bryland and Alfstanna?

Finally, with a sharp shake of her head to bring herself back into the present, she decided to do as she had said and wait for Fergus' arrival and opinion.

Of course, had she considered it more closely instead of spending the night and half of the next day alternating between anger and shock, she would never have relied on Fergus, of all people, to be the voice of reason.

After greeting Bryland and Alfstanna heartily and allowing himself to be crowded into the study and to listen to the arguments, the first thing he said, grinning, was, "My little sister, the queen of Ferelden! All I can think is what Mother would have said about that!"

Elissa leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. "Fergus, be reasonable! I can't just—just go and marry a natural son of Maric's who found himself on the throne through some very strange circumstances. Besides, has anyone asked _him _what _he_ thinks?"

"The matter was raised by his advisors more than once," Alfstanna said. "He seemed…"

"Yes?" Elissa prompted, when nothing more was forthcoming.

"Flustered."

Elissa gently banged the back of her head against the wall.

"I can't order you to get married to him," Fergus said, suddenly very serious. "It is his decision, and yours, and if you decide to refuse him, should he offer, I would never force you. I know that our parents never wanted an arranged marriage for you, Elissa. But Bann Alfstanna has a very valid point. Father could have been king, you know."

"That was a single Landsmeet six years ago," Elissa protested.

"Yes, but you weren't there. I was, and I remember how close the vote had been. We are the most important family in Ferelden after the Theirins. Your marriage to the new king would appease quite a few nobles who put value in such things. And you could do it, you could be queen; I have no doubt of it. You are smart, and capable, and educated."

"Thank you," Elissa said dryly. "And let us hope I am also not barren, because that seems to be my main role in this situation: to produce a child of mixed Theirin and Cousland blood and thus ensure the continued stability of Ferelden."

"No," Bryland said unexpectedly. "That is, such a child would indeed be very important. But there are half a dozen old families with marriageable daughters we could have approached. We are talking to you, however, because of _who_ you are, Elissa Cousland, and not because of what your _pedigree_ is."

"Silly," Fergus said with a tired smile. "At least you get to go to Denerim for a week or two. You'll have a break from all this." He gestured vaguely at the bare walls around them. "That alone should be worth it. And I promise you, I would never demand or order you to marry him if you don't want to."

Elissa sighed. A break from Highever sounded wonderful indeed.

"Look at the bright side," Fergus continued with a mischievous grin. "He may not want you either."

And so, with a groan from Elissa and quickly suppressed grins from Bryland and Alfstanna, it was decided.

To Denerim, therefore, she was to go.


	3. 2 Denerim

"I should have probably told you this earlier," Bryland began uncomfortably as they rode through the gates of his estate.

"Oh, Maker," Elissa said, as her horse stepped daintily around some rubble. Denerim was far from whole, even after all these months. "What is it? Is the betrothal arranged already? Are _you_ proclaiming yourself pretender now? Is there another Blight coming?"

Bryland snorted. "No. Worse than all those things combined, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Maker," Elissa said in an entirely different tone. "Please don't tell me you have Ha—"

The main doors to the estate flew open, nearly knocking over a servant. "Daddy!" Habren, dressed in the finest Orlesian silks Elissa had seen since before the Blight strode into the yard. "May I have fifty sovereigns?"

Elissa fought to keep her expression pleasantly blank. Fifty sovereigns was more than the weekly household budget for the entire Highever castle, repairs to the masonry and food for the knights included.

"And lovely to see you too, Habren," Bryland said wearily, dismounting.

Habren waved him off. "Yes, hello, Daddy; so may I have the money? I saw the most divine changeant silk chiffon in one of the shops this morning; it would do very well for a dress with the right Antivan embroidery."

To her horror, Elissa saw the indecision on Bryland's face. Considering that South Reach had never been as profitable as Highever, this was simply frightening. "Say no," she whispered to him without moving her lips.

Bryland threw her an uncertain look and turned back to Habren. "Haven't you bought enough fabric to make a dozen dresses now?" he asked, striving for calmly paternal and achieving merely desperate.

Habren frowned. "Daddy! I want that chiffon!" She looked a moment away from stomping her foot.

Elissa slid out of the saddle, putting the horse between her and Habren. "Say no," she whispered again.

Bryland drew himself up to his full height. "I'm afraid it's a bit too expensive, darling. Let the seamstress come and make dresses from what you have now, and you'll see that you have more than enough already," he said resolutely, utterly spoiling the effect by giving Elissa an uncertain look. She nodded firmly in encouragement.

Habren's lower lip trembled. "You… you don't love me at all!" she proclaimed dramatically. "Thanks to you I will have no place in fine society, or what passes for fine society in this rat-infested hole!"

But you will always have a place in any good theatre troupe, Elissa thought darkly, stepping around her mare's head.

Habren noticed her for the first time. "Oh. And who are you?" she asked without much interest.

That made Bryland's shoulders stiffen as nothing in the chiffon discussion had. "That," he said angrily, "is Lady Elissa Cousland, daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland and sister to Teyrn Fergus Cousland."

Habren dropped a perfunctory curtsey, with a shrug implied in it. "Will you be staying long?"

Elissa rose from her own curtsey. "As long as your father's legendary hospitality will last," she said lightly. "A pleasure to see you again, Lady Habren."

Habren shrugged.

Bryland looked down at Habren, his lips thinning. "You will be polite to Lady Elissa, Habren. You shame our family with your rudeness."

"She did not offend me," Elissa murmured, putting a soothing hand on Bryland's arm.

He patted her hand, turning them towards the doors. "Come, I think your rooms should be ready."

"Does Mother know how you treat _Lady_ Elissa?" Habren asked shrilly from behind them before they had taken three steps.

Elissa felt Bryland's arm stiffen under her hand and turned around swiftly. "Going by the letter that His Grace was kind enough to bring me when he came to Highever last week, I believe so, yes," she said. "I hope to be able to see Her Grace soon, in fact. Do you know if your youngest brother has recovered from his illness? Her Grace seemed very concerned."

"To the Fade with bloody Sven," Habren cried and ran into the house through the servants' entrance.

Bryland sighed and rubbed his free hand over his face. "Nothing like coming home," he said wearily. Servants were looking on, wide-eyed, from doors and windows.

"Let us recover from the journey," Elissa said, keeping her voice low. This was going to be even worse than she'd thought.

Half an hour later, washed and having changed out of her travel clothes, Elissa found her way to Bryland's study with the help of an elven servant who seemed half-paralysed with fear. It probably wasn't surprising, considering the maid lived in the same house as Habren, but it made Elissa uncomfortable nonetheless. She'd never had a servant be afraid of her before.

She knocked at the study door and at Bryland's muffled bid to enter edged herself inside, dismissing the maid with a smile. Bryland was slumped over his desk, head in hands, the entire surface of the desk in front of him covered with bills, some of them written with pointedly red ink.

Elissa suppressed a wince and sat down without being invited. "School," she said without any preamble.

Bryland looked up. "What?"

Elissa gestured at the bills. "Send her off to school. Even an expensive Orlesian one won't cost you more than this."

"That's true enough," Bryland said darkly. He sighed, looking away. "It started when the boy was born, you know."

"Sven?"

"Oh, no. The first one."

"But she was…" Elissa counted quickly. "She couldn't have been older than ten, then."

Bryland nodded. "Nine. She got more and more unmanageable, she chased away all her tutors and she shouts at her mother, and I simply…" He sighed again. "I'm sorry, my dear. I did not mean to trouble you with our family problems."

"You and your wife are my closest friends," Elissa said. "I worry about you – and about her. She isn't happy, despite the clothes and the, what was it, kittens?"

"Puppies," Bryland said glumly.

"Which is why I suggested a school. She may rage there all she likes, but if you find a good one, they won't let her so idle that her rage turns into mischief. And you'll need to write to her often, both your wife and you."

"She knows we love her," Bryland said miserably.

"I don't know what she knows. Maybe she thinks you don't love her now that you have sons."

Bryland looked up, frowning. "What nonsense. If she showed more responsibility, if she learned more, I would name her my heir in a heartbeat!"

"And have you told her that?" Elissa asked pointedly. At his look she sighed. "Leonas, I love you dearly, but sometimes you men are all the same."

Unexpectedly he smiled at her. "Ah, but speaking of men, my dear girl..."

Elissa suppressed a wince and folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, my lord?"

Bryland looked like he wanted to wink at her, only his manners keeping him from it. "I have a note from Alfstanna here. Your arrival in the city has been greeted by enthusiasm from every noble still in the city, it seems. And, most importantly, the king has agreed to grant you an audience."

She shouldn't have been surprised, Elissa supposed, nor frightened, nor annoyed, but she was all those things and more. "When?" she asked somewhat faintly.

"Tomorrow!" Bryland said, finally fishing out Alfstanna's letter from under the bills. "Tomorrow afternoon."

Elissa balled her hands into fists to prevent them from shaking. "Leonas, don't take this the wrong way, please, but I need to go shopping, right now."

Bryland looked vaguely betrayed. "You what?"

"I have my own money," Elissa hastened to reassure him, "but I don't have a dress fit for a royal audience."

"Oh." Bryland deflated in relief. "Certainly, very well. Take a servant or two and take some knights; it's not safe enough yet." His lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile. "If you need directions, ask any of the maids. They've become intimately acquainted with all the seamstresses in Denerim, I should think."

Elissa smiled at him gently. "Thank you, my lord; that is very generous."

He waves a hand wearily. "Go on, go. I need to deal with all this." He nodded at the bills littering his desk.

Elissa found a maid almost immediately; it was the same elven woman who had guided her to Bryland's study earlier. She averted her eyes at Elissa spoke to her, however, and when the words 'shopping' and 'seamstress' were mentioned, she turned pale as chalk.

"Listen, please," Elissa finally said in exasperation. "I have a little money, but I have absolutely no time, so I need to find a seamstress that might have a half-finished dress for a customer who ran off or cancelled the order. It needs to be of good quality, but nothing too fancy, and," she paused, remembering the royal palace, "and it needs to be wool or thick velvet."

"But my lady," the maid whispered, "you are meeting the king!"

"Yes, and have you _been_ to the palace? I don't suppose the battle of Denerim helped with the draughts or added more fireplaces," Elissa said. "I can't wear anything I have now; those dresses are fine for going into the city, but this will be a royal audience. Please," she begged, "I haven't been to Denerim in two years, and I don't know what has changed after the battle, and I really, really need a decent dress."

The maid hesitated. "Lady Habren visited a seamstress yesterday…" she began hesitantly and continued at Elissa's encouraging nod. "Like you said, my lady, the seamstress was complaining about cancelled orders. She might have something to your liking."

"Perfect," Elissa said with a cheerful smile that threatened to slide off her face.

An hour later, the seamstress in question was eying Elissa critically. "I have several unfinished dresses that could be fitted to your figure, my lady," she said slowly. "But that means putting all my girls to work on just one dress and neglecting the others…"

Elissa sighed. Finding the seamstress had been easy, but Elissa was exhausted, exasperated, and in no mood to bargain. "Fine. Fifteen sovereigns on top of the price of the dress, but I need it by midday tomorrow and not a minute later."

The seamstress' face split in a smile that showed her dark yellow teeth to perfection. "Certainly, my lady. Now, what colours do you prefer?"

They finally settled on an embroidered gown of fine green wool, with long sleeves and a high collar. "Will it be warm?" Elissa asked, fingering a sleeve absently.

"Why yes, my lady," the seamstress said from the floor where she was pinning up the hem. "It is a winter dress, which is why the lady cancelled the order, it being spring now."

"Hasty of her," Elissa murmured.

"Why, is my lady travelling to the mountains?"

The news would be all over the city the next day, so Elissa felt no compunction saying, "No, but the royal palace is so cold that I'll even have to take a cloak, I think."

The seamstress gapes, losing several pins in the process. "The royal palace, my lady?"

Elissa nodded, smiling thinly. "The king will not care for the dress; men never do, you know. But if any lady asks, I'll be sure to mention your name."

The seamstress paled, and then flushed, before she could speak. "Th-thank you, my lady. If my lady will want any more dresses done, my shop will always offer you a discount, of course."

"Of course," Elissa echoed, suddenly tired.

They arrived back at Bryland's estate just before sunset. Elissa washed up and changed for dinner, which was a strained affair with Habren pointedly silent and sulky and Bryland desperately determined to be cheerful. Elissa poked at the food, smiled and made encouraging noises in all the right places, and kept asking about the arlessa while Habren looked as if she wished she could poison the food by merely glaring at it.

Finally the girl excused herself, if stomping off without a word counted as such, and Bryland sighed, burying his face in his hands.

Elissa waited until the servants had left to cautiously pat him on the shoulder. "I will write a letter to your wife," she said quietly. "It will get better."

"I could always strangle her," Bryland muttered into his hands.

"And waste so much investment in silk?" Elissa asked with a smile.

"Very true." Bryland sat back and sighed. "About tomorrow, my dear. It seems that half a dozen people want to speak to me."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Because of me?"

"I'm sure of it. But it means I will be unable to accompany you to the audience."

"It might be for the best," Elissa said slowly. "Everybody knows I'm staying at your estate; it might be a good thing if we signal some sort of distance."

"True enough, but I can't let you go there alone, in your capacity as a potential bride," Bryland said, frowning.

"Ah, but you're forgetting something." Elissa turned her hand and her heavy Cousland signet ring flashed in the candlelight.

"Oh, of course," Bryland said. His lips curved into a sad smile. "I _do_ keep forgetting, you know. I still think of you as 'Bryce's youngest' sometimes."

Elissa smiled at him gently, not caring about the tears in her eyes. "I think that's a great compliment to him, Leonas. It certainly makes _me_ proud."

Bryland sighed and patted her hand. "Well. I doubt I shall see you tomorrow, as it appears the entire Landsmeet will be invading the house. Have you got that dress?"

"If the dressmaker keeps her word, yes."

"If you told her what it is for, I'm sure she will."

Elissa chuckled. "Of course I did. Even if he doesn't propose, she will be much in demand after tomorrow."

Bryland smiled wryly. "And on that note, I don't know what to wish you for tomorrow, my dear."

"Wish me a warm day," Elissa said drily. "And the ability to contain my excitement. I shall be meeting the king of Ferelden, you know."

~o0o~

Elissa shivered again and wished she had kept her cloak. The room she had been shown to was empty of everything interesting; there wasn't even a copy of the Chant lying about. Outside the window twilight was turning into dusk.

Finally there were quick steps outside the door and before Elissa could decide whether to be relieved or apprehensive, the door opened and the king came in.

Elissa dropped a deep curtsey before she could take a proper look at him, only noticing that he was tall and blond. "Your Majesty," she murmured.

"Er, hello," the king said. "You must be Lady Elissa."

Elissa straightened and looked at him properly, trying not to stare too obviously. Young, tall, blond, undeniably handsome. And looking rather sheepish. Wonderful, just wonderful. "Sire," she said in reply.

"You're the first, er, candidate, to come alone, you know," the king said, sounding almost conversational. "All the other ones were accompanied by, ah, well-meaning relatives."

"While I am currently staying in Denerim under the protection of Arl Bryland," Elissa said, "we thought it unwise he should accompany me. And as my brother's heir and representative, I do not need a chaperone." She showed her signet ring, although he seemed not to notice.

"I see," he said and looked at her as closely as she had at him.

Elissa looked back, fighting the urge to excuse herself and walk out. _This_ was the hope of Ferelden's stable and peaceful future? This man seemed barely past boyhood and as out of place as a foot soldier dressed up in fine clothing at an arl's ball. Something in the set of his shoulders made it obvious that he was unused to be out of armour. Elissa fought a sigh from escaping.

The king continued looking at her. "You know," he said slowly, "when Bann Alfstanna said that you were in Denerim, my advisors almost broke out in cheers. They've never been as enthusiastic about any gi—woman before, or at least not all of them at once."

"I am a Cousland," Elissa said simply. Surely he knew what it meant?

"Oh, they've spent hours lecturing me on your family, and that you were my best hope to avoid a civil war," the king said, sounding unexpectedly bitter. "I know very well that if don't ask you, most of the Landsmeet will start pushing for their daughters and cousins and it will be chaos, and then it might be civil war after all."

"Thank you for the compliment, Your Majesty," Elissa said icily.

"I didn't mean it like that!" he snapped, and then rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to be in this situation any more than I do."

"My brother gave me permission to refuse your suit, if I wanted to – should you make an offer," Elissa said honestly. "The decision rests with you and me alone."

"Oh, right. And if it's not you, then half the nobles in Ferelden will swoop down on me to marry their young female relatives, while the other half will support your brother in his bid for the throne."

"I doubt such a bid would be in his best interest, for the moment," Elissa said carefully.

"Riiiight," he drawled. Finally, some sign of common sense; maybe even reading between the lines of what she was saying. "So, what do we do now? Play chess? Exchange opinions on the fashionable Orlesian composers? Talk about the weather?"

Wasn't the man going to invite her to sit down? Elissa straightened and, once again, wished her gown was warmer. "What are Your Majesty's plans, now that the Blight is over?"

"You don't waste time, do you?" the king said, and then eyed the settee uncertainly. "Oh, right. Won't you sit down?"

Finally! "Thank you, Sire," Elissa said, and perched in one of the corners, fumbling a bit with her gown. Chances were he wouldn't notice, of course, but it was an unwelcome reminder as to how long she hadn't worn a proper dress. Her mother would have been horrified.

He sat down on the other end of the settee, stiffly at first and then cautiously relaxing as if only just realising he wasn't wearing full plate. "If you are here as your brother's heir and representative, I probably shouldn't go into too much detail about my plans for the country, right?" he asked.

The point was a very valid one, even if phrased rather simply. "If Your Majesty is considering a proposal," Elissa began cautiously, "then I would need to know what I would be agreeing to, as a future queen. If, however, Your Majesty is not interested in one, we should indeed simply exchange some words on the weather, or maybe on the sea trade in Highever, before we part."

The king shook his head and gave her a brief, incongruous smile. "You are not what I expected," he said.

Elissa was in no mood to remind him who and what she was. She'd often thought it would have been nice to be just a simple, simpering girl with an obsession with clothing and handsome young noblemen. But she was a Cousland, the second to last Cousland now, and she couldn't even afford the frivolity of wistfulness. "I sincerely beg Your Majesty to make his intentions clear," she said, as close to being rude as she dared.

"Look, would you stop talking about me in the third person?" the king said, sounding irritated. "I am sitting right here." He ran a hand through his hair. "I know I don't know all the manners and double-speak and secret handshakes, and I'm trying to learn, but I've never wan—that is, I never thought I'd find myself in this position. I never thought," and to Elissa's astonishment he actually blushed, "I never thought I'd _marry_ like this. I suppose I should be grateful we're alone, and no being observed by a horde of relatives and courtiers."

"It is not unprecedented," Elissa said, avoiding the issue of addressing him altogether. "But indeed, technically my brother or his envoy should be talking to you or to one of your advisors, instead. But I _am_ my brother's envoy, and it was your choice to meet me personally."

"Because everybody wants me to _marry_ you," the king said exasperatedly. "I know it must sound very uncivilized to someone like you, but I thought _meeting_ the woman I am expected to marry would be a nice idea."

_Someone like you_? What do you know about me? Elissa thought angrily, but kept her face pleasantly blank. "Whatever Your Majesty thinks best," she said sweetly.

"Oh, I deserved that one, I guess," he said, and sighed. "I'm sorry."

It was the unexpected sincerity in his voice that made Elissa say, "Don't say things like that. Or at least not until you can feign the right emotion perfectly. Sire."

"That's what they keep telling me," the king said looking down at his hands. "But you probably had a lifetime of learning politics. I had a few months."

"It gets easier," Elissa said absently. She hadn't meant to give him advice, especially honest advice. But he did look a bit forlorn, and the last thing Ferelden needed was a king who was projecting all his emotions guilelessly. Was he like that with foreign ambassadors as well, Maker forbid?

"They keep telling that as well," the king said, giving her a small smile. After a moment, however, his smile faded. "So, what now?"

"I believe I know, or can guess, what has been said about me," Elissa said cautiously. "But what would be Your Maj—your expectations if you were to propose? Beyond an heir that would unite the Theirin and the Cousland lines, that is."

Unexpectedly, the king blushed again and looked away quickly. "Arl Eamon would not stop talking about that," he said. "The only other thing I've ever seen him be so happy about was somebody of the Theirin line – me – ascending to the throne."

"Forgive me, Your Maj—but I was asking about your expectations, not the arl's," Elissa said, filing away the unexpected information that Arl Eamon was more of an ardent conservative than she had expected. The king should really learn to guard his tongue better.

"I don't know," the king confessed, turning back to look at her. "I suppose – somebody to help me navigate all this," he waved his hand vaguely, which Elissa took to mean the intricacies of the court and protocol. "Somebody to help me deal with the politics. Somebody to tell me whom I could trust and what I should know."

"An advisor bound by the holiest oaths to always be loyal," Elissa summarised.

His lips thinned in displeasure or anger; she couldn't tell. "I was training to be a templar until I was recruited into the Grey Wardens," he said in a low voice. "I never expected _any_ of this. I never thought I would have to marry _at all_, never mind marry for political considerations. I thought…" he shook his head. "Never mind. I suppose you think I'm a simpleton."

"If I said so, you could have me in Fort Drakon within the hour, for such an insult to your royal person," Elissa said dryly. "But I am not about to, nor do I think so in the first place."

His head came up eagerly. "You don't?" A moment later he slumped down again. "But I can't trust you to tell the truth, can I."

Torn between laughter and outrage, Elissa bit her lip to keep her expression blank. "Thank you, Sire."

"Oh, I didn't—Maker's breath!" He stood up and walked to the window in agitation, forcing Elissa to stand as well. "I apologise," he said stiffly without turning around. "I'm making rather a mess of all this. I thought I was getting better at it." He turned around and frowned to find her standing.

Elissa looked at the settee and then back at him.

"Oh," he said blankly. "Sorry. I keep forgetting. Please sit down."

Elissa did, managing her dress far more successfully this time. "Your Majesty," she began slowly, "it is no great secret, although it was a bit of a scandal at the time, that my parents married for love."

He stared at that and sat back down. "They did?"

"My father fought with Arl Bryland and Arl— they fought in King Maric's army," Elissa continued, smiling faintly as she remembered her parents telling the story. "My mother and her older brother were children of a minor southern bann, and when he was killed by the Orlesians for helping the rebels, they both took up arms. Apparently my parents met over the corpse of a chevalier they had simultaneously killed."

"How romantic," the king said, but he was grinning. "Love at first kill."

"Indeed," Elissa said and lowered her head to hide her own smile. "My uncle was killed at the battle of River Dane, so the title went to a cousin, but my parents were married even before King Ma—Your Majesty's father was crowned."

The king shrugged. "I think of him as King Maric as well, you know. I never—anyway. That's a lovely story. Well, a bit more gory than most, but still lovely."

_Hush, Bryce. I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy her time. But I won't abandon you._

"It is," Elissa agreed, cursing her stinging eyes. "It was one of the reasons my parents never arranged marriages for my brother or for me. I was free to make my own choices – but it was a double-edged sword, Sire, because at the end of the day I am a Cousland, and while I _could_ have married the blacksmith, I also _wouldn't_ have done so, _because_ I was a Cousland."

The king nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand." He hesitated, worrying the hem of his doublet. "Neither of us can escape who we are. But you said you don't have to marry me, if you don't want to. So, _why_ are you here?

"I wanted to meet you," Elissa said. "Ferelden needs a strong king, especially now that we have survived the Blight with so many casualties. I wanted to—"

"You wanted to see if I could be that king," he said, the laughter and flippancy gone from his voice.

Refusing to back down, Elissa raised her chin faintly. "Ferelden needs a strong king," she repeated.

"And now that you have met me, what do you think?" he asked, sounding, for the first time, almost regal. When she hesitated, he waved his hand impatiently. "I want an honest opinion, and I'm not about to have you arrested."

Elissa hesitated, and then decided to plunge ahead; she had always been too impulsive for her own good. "I think you have the potential for it, if you continue with your desire to learn the necessities of the office and surround yourself with trustworthy advisors and gain the support of a larger portion of the Landsmeet," she said slowly. "What I have seen today is… promising."

The king blinked at her and then finally snapped his mouth shut. "Uh, thank you, I guess," he said.

"You are welcome," Elissa said, and sighed. "I apologise for my rudeness, Your Majesty."

"You weren't. Rude, that is. And I asked for it, anyway," the king said. He rubbed his face wearily before looking back at her. "So what, you came here prepared to make a sacrifice for the good of Ferelden?" He winced as soon as the words were out. "Oh, _that_ was rude. I mean – what do _you_ want, other than a strong king for Ferelden? What would you want from a marriage with, well, with me, I suppose?"

"For you to listen to me and to trust me, where politics are concerned," Elissa said slowly, thinking. "To discuss political issues with me if you disagree instead of immediately doing it your way, at least until you have experience of your own. Your support and respect in public, even if it's just a servant in the corner and not the entire Landsmeet. For you to keep your mistresses discreet—"

"M-mistresses?" the king asked. To Elissa's surprise he was blushing.

She almost shrugged, but in the end controlled herself enough and merely lifted a shoulder. "Well, obviously there is the issue of the heir, so you'd have to bed me, at least in the beginning; I wouldn't pry into your affairs, however."

"And what about _your_ affairs," he asked, sounding angry, for some reason. "Do I need to expect you to have lovers?"

Elissa frowned. "Well, I am not planning on it; you know how a woman is scrutinised far more closely than a man, in such things. But should I have the misfortune to fall in love I would tell you before I acted on anything; that I swear."

He was silent for a while, looking closely at the rug under their feet, before he raised his eyes to hers again. "So, let me get this straight. We both want a strong king for Ferelden, and we both agree that I'm currently not the worst candidate for the job, especially with your help. We both trust and want you to guide me through the worst of it in the beginning and show me the ropes. We both want respect and are prepared to respect the other in return. We are both aware of the sacrifice we need to make because of our _blood_," he spat out the word with such vitriol that Elissa wondered who had been using it too often in his presence.

When nothing more was forthcoming, Elissa risked a cautious nod. "Indeed, Sire. And," she said cautiously, "I believe we're both prepared to work at it."

The king nodded. "It's part of the whole king experience, isn't it?" He paused. "Did your parents ever argue?" he asked wistfully, and Elissa realised abruptly that Maric's bastard or no, he had probably grown up as an orphan.

"Oh, yes," she replied honestly. "My mother had a tongue that could flay a man at twenty paces. And my father had the most hideous habits… Fergus seems to have inherited some of them."

"And you haven't inherited anything from your mother at all, of course," the king said, far too innocently.

Elissa narrowed her eyes and just barely resisted the temptation to cross her arms. "If Your Majesty says so," she said, and was shocked to realise it had come out almost sulky.

Unexpectedly the king gave her a wide grin that slowly faded as he continued to look at her. "Uh," he said cautiously. "Is it just me, or did we just agree that we have a lot of common goals and should get married?"

"Maker," Elissa said involuntarily. She had been so sure they had been discussing a hypothetical situation that she found herself rather unprepared for the reality crashing over her like a wave.

"Not just me, then," the king said, running a hand through his hair again. "Right, so… do you think we should?"

Elissa looked at him, consciously seeing the man and not the king. She had expected something like a coarse and common soldier filled with hate for the nobility, not this uncertain young man whose biggest failing seemed to be his honesty and inability to hide his feelings. He could become the king Ferelden needed, especially with her at his side, of that she was almost certain now. "Do you… want to?" she asked eventually. "It is you who has to ask, Sire."

"Right, and it won't be a blow to my pride at all to be refused by the most eligible young woman in Ferelden," he shot back. "I'm not going to ask if you come to your senses and decide you have an urgent appointment elsewhere, you know."

"My most urgent appointment today was this one," Elissa said with a cautious smile. "Possibly the most important appointment in my life so far, I believe."

He gestured impatiently. "Well, then?"

Elissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "If you should propose, I would want your oath that you will always show respect to me as your queen and your advisor," she said on the exhale looking him straight in the eyes. "I would not want to disappear into the background and rule the country from the bedroom. In turn I would promise to always have your best interests at heart, and always come to you first, never being disloyal or going over your head."

"Unless I went crazy or something," he threw in unexpectedly. At her look he shrugged. "Well, it could happen."

"Very well. If your interests and the country's were at odds I would always discuss it with you and try to find the best solution. I would swear to always respect you not only as my king but also as my husband, and act accordingly. And," some impish thought made her add, "should you indeed go insane I would promise to find you the best possible care."

He grinned at her briefly. "If I—proposed, I would agree to these conditions." His face grew serious again. "There is something you should know, however."

"I'm listening," Elissa said, frowning. A dozen wild scenarios, one worse than the other, ran through her head.

The king turned away, looking at a wall tapestry. "I'm a Grey Warden," he said distantly. "It's not something you can just—stop doing, like becoming a fishmonger instead of a carpenter. It's something you _are_."

Elissa nodded cautiously, though he couldn't see her. "I heard there was a ritual involved?"

He nodded as well. "The ritual, it changes us. It gives us certain abilities, like being able to sense darkspawn, but it also… changes our bodies."

"What are you saying?" Elissa asked, more tremulously than she would have liked.

"It is difficult for a Grey Warden to… sire or bear a child," he said, still looking away. Elissa saw that the tips of his ears had flushed red yet again. "Not impossible, but I don't know how it would be for my… wife. Maybe nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe… miscarriages and things. I don't know much about that. I have been told by a… not exactly trustworthy source that a new Warden has a better chance of siring a child than one who has been a Warden for years, but that could have been wrong. Anyway," he said with a sigh, "I thought you should know. Since we were talking about this."

"Thank you," Elissa whispered, taken aback, and then cleared her throat. "Would the Orlesian Wardens in Amaranthine know more about this?"

He turned back to her and grimaced. "They might, but they haven't exactly been forthcoming with information. They think I'm betraying our cause by being all… king of Ferelden. I can't exactly blame them. Besides, Grey Wardens aren't supposed to meddle in politics in the first place."

"But there have been children sired by Grey Wardens?" Elissa persisted stubbornly.

He nodded. "Oh, yes. I just don't know how… easy it will be. The… conception, I mean. The pregnancy is apparently a normal one."

"And the child?"

"It's just a child, from what I've heard." He sighed. "Which, I realise, isn't much. But I know that the children aren't born with the—what makes us Grey Wardens. They're just normal babies."

"Well," Elissa said slowly, "it doesn't seem a worse gamble than the usual. After all, I could be barren."

He blinked. "Oh. Yes, I suppose that's true. I haven't thought about that." His face changed, back to the still, serious expression he had briefly worn earlier. "What is my lady's decision?"

It was insane. _She_ was insane, Elissa thought. She had come to the palace with the intention of assessing the king as a potential threat or, less likely, a potential ally, but she had never truly entertained the idea of accepting his proposal. He was a boy playing dressing up – but also, bizarrely, a man honestly desiring to do the best for their country, and offering her respect and a position she was very unlikely to receive from any other husband. Not to mention, an opportunity to shape the future of Ferelden.

_Know that we love you both, pup. You do us proud._

Elissa took a steadying breath. "If Your Majesty should do me the great honour of proposing marriage, and agree to receive the oaths I mentioned to swear earlier as well as be prepared to swear in turn, then—" the world paused for a moment, then realigned itself. "I would be honoured to accept."


	4. 3 Royal Bride

_A/N: Many thanks to Crisium, who is the person making this story work. All remaining mistakes are my own._

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"This is so _typical_ of you," Elissa said, throwing up her hands. "First you tell me you won't force me to marry him and that it's my decision to make and _then_, when I _do_ accept him, you ride all the way over to Denerim to ask me why in the Maker's name _did_ I accept him and if I've gone mad."

Fergus had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "I didn't say that last bit."

"But you thought it!"

They were alone in the guestroom in Arl Bryland's house that had been Elissa's for a week, but it wasn't the only reason Elissa had abandoned all her manners and reverted to childhood habits. It hadn't been an easy week, and the new Royal Engagement, capital letter clearly audible to everyone who spoke of it, had been only part of the problem.

In a way, being able to rant and pace was incredibly freeing.

Fergus sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I know you wanted to get away from Highever – Maker knows, anyone would – but you spent months huffing and glaring when his name was mentioned. And now you want to get married to him?"

"I do not huff," Elissa said indignantly.

"You do too. And don't change the subject, brat."

"Oaf." Elissa barely caught herself before sticking her tongue at Fergus, who was grinning at her widely. With a groan and little grace she fell back onto the bed. "Oh, I hate you."

"Mind you, I think _he_ is insane for wanting to marry you," Fergus said conversationally. "No sane man would. You don't like criticism, you don't tolerate any opinion other than yours, you are a harsh mistress—"

"I am not!" Elissa sat up, aghast. "Did you see how the servants cringe in this house? _I_ never once shouted at a servant in my life."

"No, but you expect every command to be carried out to the letter. Very politely, yes, but you control every breath of the household."

"Fergus," Elissa said slowly, "who else _is_ there? The castellan is as busy as I am, and you aren't there, and there's nobody I could delegate anything to. All the old servants are gone; half the _castle_ is gone…"

"I know, I know," he said quickly. "I'm not blaming you for anything. You keep a very efficient household; Mother taught you well. But do you realise you are about to take over _Father's_ job?"

It's not as if she hadn't thought about it. Bryce Cousland had been an occasional ambassador and a trusted advisor of King Maric's, and when King Cailan had seemingly inherited him and his services as a matter of course, the teyrn had chafed at Cailan taking him for granted with relentless good cheer. In the end Bryce had claimed advancing age and finally "retired" to Highever, full of praise for Anora's qualities as a queen and nothing more than polite smiles about the new king – until the Blight.

"I can do it," Elissa eventually said, hating the uncertain note in her voice. "And he is far from stupid. _We_ can do it."

"It's not enough that he isn't stupid and you are bossy, brat," Fergus said tiredly. "You will need—"

"Support in the Landsmeet, ambassadors for sending abroad, trade agreements, rebuilding the farmsteads, provisions for the widows and orphans, yes," Elissa said. "And not in that order, yes. I know. I know it won't be easy."

"Then why?" Fergus asked. She couldn't tell by his tone if he was exasperated or truly curious.

Elissa closed her eyes, remembering. _You wanted to see if I could be that king._ "Because he won't be able to do it alone," she finally said. "And I—"

"You are a Cousland," Fergus summarised. "You knew that without you he doesn't stand a chance, and as a Cousland it is your duty to Ferelden and to him to give him that chance."

Elissa opened her eyes and looked at her brother – the only other person in Ferelden who truly understood. "We may still fail," she said. "But at least with me he has a higher chance of succeeding."

Fergus slumped in his chair, sighing. "Do you ever wish Father had been a fisherman?"

"All the time," Elissa said hollowly. "You?"

"Not all the time."

"No?"

"Sometimes I wish he had been a carpenter."

They sat in silence for a minute until shrill shouting from downstairs made them both jump. "Oh, I know I should be feeling sympathy for that girl, but I do so want to slap her sometimes," Elissa said.

"I did wonder how you could stand her," Fergus muttered.

"It's not her fault. Leonas is an abysmal father," Elissa said, standing up to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirts.

"Not all children of bad fathers turn out like _that_," Fergus said with distaste. "Anyway, I should get changed. I need to go meet some people."

"Were you thinking about reopening Highever Estate?" Elissa asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

Fergus grinned down at her. "That bad, huh? We'll see; I need to inspect the damage first. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Elissa said, and then surprised herself by reaching up and giving Fergus a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, is she _that_ bad?" he grinned, but patted her shoulder quickly.

"No," Elissa said without elaborating. "Shoo now. I need to get changed as well; I'm having an audience with His Majesty this afternoon."

"Yes, Leonas said. Do you want me to accompany you?" Fergus asked, hand already at the door.

"I think you need to; there'll be people there I need distracted."

"Court intrigue, how I missed it," Fergus sighed, walking out.

Ringing for the maid, Elissa thought that as much as Fergus complained, the change of place seemed to suit him. He was still pale, but rather more animated than he had been in Highever.

Two hours later she was thinking of something else entirely.

"This is _not_ a riding dress," Elissa said desperately. "Maker's breath, Fergus, I need to be presentable when I get to the palace!"

"Then a wagon, perhaps?" Fergus suggested. His tone was innocence itself, but his eyes were anything but.

"Don't tease her," Bryland said. He was looking harassed, but that was more likely due to the shouting they had heard earlier. "I have one of those bench saddles somewhere, my girl, will that do? My wife used them when she was, er, expecting."

"If it can be found in a hurry, yes," Elissa said. "I can't ride in it; somebody will have to lead the horse, so it will take longer. Also, Fergus, I am going to order your execution the moment I am crowned."

"It wasn't my fault Wulff got drunk and wouldn't stop talking," Fergus said, rather unsuccessfully fighting a smile.

"You could have excused yourself on account of having a," she swallowed an expletive, "royal audience."

"How could I have known you wouldn't want to ride?"

"The very. First. Moment," Elissa said through gritted teeth.

"No, I think _that's_ the moment he has to present you to the people. Tradition, you know."

"Children," Bryland said chidingly, returning from a brief consultation with a servant.

Elissa took a calming breath. "My apologies, Leonas. You get enough of that already, I suppose."

Unexpectedly, Bryland grinned. "Oh, no. _This_ is restful. I'm not responsible for either of you, you don't want any money, there are no ear-splitting shrieks, and I get to simply watch."

"Watch," Elissa repeated tonelessly.

"I suppose he means something like a bear pit," Fergus said, elbowing Bryland in the ribs.

"Careful, my boy," Bryland said, although he wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "You don't want to hurt an old man."

"Nonsense; you are barely fifty," Fergus said carelessly. Suddenly he frowned. "What was that?" There was a crash from an upper floor, following by screaming.

"Habren," Bryland said with a sigh. "Don't mind her."

"Did you write to your wife?" Elissa asked gently.

"Yes, and I included your letter, too. We'll see what she—oh, there's your horse."

It took a stable boy and a huge mounting block to get Elissa into, or rather onto the saddle, much to her mortification. A page in Bryand's livery led the horse, clearly unused to the strange contraption on its back and balking at the smallest obstacle. Fergus, astride his bay gelding, pace matched to Elissa's mare, was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that his face had gone red from the effort.

Elissa concentrated on sitting still, holding on, and thinking uncharitable thoughts. At least it wasn't raining.

In front of the palace, while a flock of servants were swarming around them, she took the opportunity to ram her elbow into Fergus' abdomen when he was helping her dismount.

"Should I warn your husband-to-be about your violent habits, or let him discover them for himself, on your wedding night perhaps?" Fergus murmured into Elissa's ear, rubbing his stomach and trying not to glare too obviously.

"Oh, I do apologise, brother," Elissa said sweetly and loudly. "Please forgive my clumsiness. I do hope I have not hurt you too badly."

Taking the hint, Fergus offered her his arm and they swept into the palace entrance in silence.

This time they were shown to a small hall with a blazing hearth and carved wooden seats that made Elissa long for cushions. The king was standing by the fire, with three other men she recognised. When their entrance was announced, he came over to give a very credible bow and offered her his arm after she rose from her courtesy.

Elissa gave him her most polite smile. "Your Majesty, a pleasure and an honour to see you again."

"Lady Elissa, I trust you are well."

For some reason the studied words struck a wrong note; they were right of course, it was what he should have said, but after having met him in private they rang wrong somehow, Elissa thought. Nevertheless she sailed on. "May I introduce my brother, the teyrn of Highever?"

Fergus bowed formally, all trace of expression hidden behind a polite mask. "Your Majesty. I had the honour to be present at your coronation, but sadly I was forced to return to Highever very soon after and thus was not able to beg for an audience."

"Teyrn Cousland," the king said with a nod and again, Elissa felt some strange dissonance. The words were right, and so was the non-expression on his face, and yet…

But then, with the introductions complete, the nobles that had been standing with the king earlier were hurrying over and Elissa straightened, chilling her smile several degrees.

"Lady Elissa, Teyrn Cousland, may I present some of my… advisors," the king said woodenly. "The arl of Redcliffe, the bann of Dragon's Peak, and the bann of West Hill."

Elissa curtseyed again. "My lords, an honour."

"The honour is ours, my lady," Arl Eamon said. Elissa remembered him vaguely from her visits to Denerim with her father; he had aged visibly since and she thought she remembered Bryland speaking of some grave illness.

"Arl Eamon, a pleasure to see you again," Fergus said on cue. "My lords. It is an honour to be back in Denerim for such a momentous occasion." He took an unobtrusive step towards one of the groups of seats.

The king gave him an uncertain look, but at a gentle pressure of Elissa's hand led her towards the hearth. "How did you do that?" he asked quietly when they were out of earshot. "I couldn't get rid of them all morning; they kept telling me what to say to you."

"Such as?" Elissa murmured, looking at the embers and guiding him to turn around so that both their faces were turned away from the nobles behind them.

"Oh, pretty much everything we agreed not to do. How I would be the sole ruler and you were not to advise me on anything other than how you take your tea."

"Milk and no honey," Elissa said with a small smile.

He smiled back, almost too quickly to see. "They said you were a bossy shrew and I was not to listen to you."

Elissa blinked. "They are not entirely wrong," she said cautiously. "I have been recently reminded that I tend to be quite… forceful at times."

"Like when you dare a king to have you arrested, you mean?" he asked, the courtly expression slipping to reveal a grin underneath.

Elissa hoped the heat in her face was merely from the fire. "I ought to apologise for most of the things I said then," she murmured.

"Don't," he said, looking surprisingly serious. "It was a nice change. I felt like I'd eaten too much honey, and you were…"

"A sip of vinegar?"

"Oh, don't do this; it's not fair," he managed, his shoulder shaking. "If I start laughing now they'll never let me hear the end of it."

Elissa smiled despite herself, but then remembered that they had little time to discuss serious business. "Do you remember who first started dissuading you from giving me too much power?" she asked.

"I don't know. It certainly felt like all of them at once. Why?" To his credit, the king managed to not change posture or expression, nor to look over his shoulder when asking that.

"I remember a few rumours about Fran— the bann of West Hill," Elissa said cautiously. "It may be for the best if you tried to keep some distance from him."

"Eamon said the same thing," the king said, looking fixedly at the fire. "But I'm tired of—anyway. Never mind."

"Arl Eamon's advice may have been. I shall ask Fergus whether he knows more when we get back," Elissa said. "Mind, if mere unsavoury habits made bad advisors, you ought to throw Sighard out of the palace; that man is a terrible glutton. How he has kept from exploding I shall never know. But I think it was something truly unpleasant where Franderel is concerned. I will make inquiries."

"Thank you," the king said in a strange tone.

Elissa turned to look at him, a smile fixed on her face for the sake on the onlookers. He looked back at her, seeming strangely wistful.

"What is it?" she asked without moving her lips.

"Nothing. It's just… nice," he said cryptically.

Elissa blinked. "Nice?"

"I know we're in this together just because of politics, but it's still nice to know you're on my side," he said quickly, as the voices behind them came closer. "Since Darrian died—"

"Elissa, I was just telling Arl Eamon how much you were looking forward to removing to the Highever Estate," Fergus said loudly behind them; a clear warning.

Without removing her hand from the king's arm, Elissa turned around with a ready smile. "Oh, that is very much the case, my lord. I miss our city house. Arl Bryland has been so very hospitable, but there is nothing quite like being in one's own home, is there?"

"This will soon be your home, my lady," the Bann Franderel said with a thin smile.

"Oh, yes." Elissa laughed lightly. "His Majesty was just informing me about the date he thought suitable for the wedding. A wise decision indeed; well before the heat wave but also giving me enough time to assemble my trousseau."

To her relief, the king didn't miss a beat. "I don't think we should wait too long," he said.

"Certainly not; an early date is our best option," Arl Eamon said briskly, looking at Fergus. Under her hand, Elissa felt the king's arm tense.

"His Majesty will arrange everything to his liking, I'm sure," Fergus said placidly.

"He has kindly given me enough time to put my affairs in order for the next Cousland heir presumptive," Elissa said with a serious-looking frown, and then turned to the king as if struck by a sudden idea. "Oh! If Your Majesty would grant me a wish, there is something that I was thinking of earlier." She beamed at Franderel. "Your lordship just reminded me of it."

"Certainly, my dear lady Elissa," the king said, smiling at her. She first thought that he was getting remarkably adept at feigning emotion before she realised that his smile was genuine.

"If I might be allowed to look at the rooms that are to be mine, Your Majesty?" she asked. "I was thinking about some items that are particularly dear to me, and whether I should take them along to my… new home." She gave a chuckle, inviting the men to share her joke.

"Why, yes, a servant can be summoned," Arl Eamon began before the king interrupted him.

"It will be my pleasure to show you the rooms myself," he said tensely. "It is my… home, after all." Before any of the others could say anything he steered Elissa towards the door and down the corridor.

"Slow down," she whispered. "The servants here are all paid a little extra by everyone, you can be sure." When he did slow her pace, she squeezed his arm briefly. "Sorry about the wedding date issue. I didn't want to pressure you."

"Are you kidding?" he asked, a little too loudly. "I wish you could move in next week."

Elissa pondered making risqué joke about the wedding night and decided against it. "In case you were wondering," she said as they walked up a grand staircase, "there are no items other than clothing I can bring with me, so I hope there _is_ enough furniture."

"Shame; I had great hopes for a pet bronto," the king said, deadpan.

"No, that one's going into the royal gardens," Elissa replied in kind, which got her a grin in return.

Upstairs the king gestured her through an open door. "Anora took most of her personal furnishings with her," he said, "but they moved—" he broke off as they saw a maid dusting an armoire in the adjoining room.

Elissa pulled him towards what she assumed was the dressing room, "Oh, what a charming view," she exclaimed and then mouthed, "leave the door open."

"I'm getting really, really tired of this," the king said quietly as they stood side by side, looking at the roofs of Denerim.

"Arl Bryland is already looking for good secretaries and servants," Elissa whispered. "And we will pay them enough that they won't be easily bribable."

"You trust him that much?" the king asked.

"I trust him with my life, blindly," Elissa said. "I will tell you why as soon as we are married."

"But that doesn't mean that _I_ can trust him, can I? He's only looking out for _your_ interests," the king said, sounding bitter.

"Until we are married. Then we are one and the same – if we both keep to our agreements," Elissa said.

The king sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I wish…"

"That your father had been a fisherman?" Elissa asked ruefully.

He blinked. "I was thinking cheesemonger, actually."

The sudden rush of feeling overcoming her wasn't pity, certainly; but Elissa thought it was sympathy. She had had her entire life to learn to be a Cousland, after all. He was probably still not used to thinking of himself as a Theirin, and already the blood prize was being demanded from him, day after day.

She reached down to briefly squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, his lips quirking in a sad smile. After a moment he turned to the window, as it pointing out something to her; an inspired move on his part.

Elissa looked at the bulk of Fort Drakon looming in the distance. "Was Darrian—?"

The king laughed briefly, entirely without humour. "They call him the Dragonslayer now. Do you know what they called him before he died?"

"'Warden'?" Elissa asked dryly.

He sighed. "In the end, yes. At first it was usually, 'Hey, you!'. He was an elf, from the Denerim alienage, did you know that? Does anyone even remember that?"

"I didn't know," Elissa said. She hadn't even considered that the surviving Wardens were people with separate histories and personalities until one of them had died ending the Blight and the other had miraculously ascended to the throne, but it would have been more than impolitic to mention that. "I spent most of the Blight… in hiding. We did not hear anything but the most unbelievable rumours about what was happening. You will have to tell me what you really did, one day, Your Majesty."

He turned to look at her. "My name is Alistair."

"I know that," Elissa said, taken aback, "but I can't simply—"

"Can't simply what? Can't call me by my name when we're in private and plotting?"

He had a point. "You are right, Y—Alistair. But only in private, of course."

He gave her a brief and incongruous grin. "And you, my lady? What shall I call you – only in private, of course?"

"I should be greatly honoured if you were to call me by my name in private, Your Majesty," Elissa said, trying to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Oh, ouch!" But he was smiling again.

Elissa smiled back, and then frowned as a thought from earlier reappeared. "Your—Alistair, a week ago, when they were putting me forth as a candidate, did they speak about limiting my power, or is that a new development?"

"They couldn't stop talking about how knowledgeable and politically experienced you were, before," he said. "I mean—"

Elissa smiled. "I understand." She bit her lip, thinking. "I didn't speak to anyone of importance during this week, and Bryland's servants are trustworthy. So they are either afraid of Bryland and Alfstanna gaining power through me, or it was Fergus' arrival in Denerim that spooked them. Fergus, most likely, because I was under Bryland's protection from the beginning."

"Does, ah…" The king sighed. "All right, I have no idea how to ask this politely, but does your brother want…?"

"Hmm? Oh." Elissa shook her head. "No, he will not attempt to influence you through me, unless something fantastic happens. I wouldn't let him, anyway. Well, Highever is always interested in better trade with Antiva, of course, but that is something that concerns all of Ferelden; Fergus' interests are the same as yours and mine there. He is…" she sighed. "He still hasn't come back, in a way. I'm glad he is in Denerim now, although the teyrnir needs him. But this is good for him."

"Come back?" the king asked, frowning.

Elissa looked down. "I was told you and the—and Darrian were the ones who killed Howe."

The king's expression darkened. "Yes."

"I'm glad," Elissa whispered fiercely and closed her stinging eyes. "I'm so glad you did. I only wish I'd been there myself to cut his throat."

"Howe proclaimed himself the teyrn of Highever, didn't he?" the king asked slowly.

"To be able to do that," Elissa said without opening her eyes, "he had his soldiers slaughter every person in our castle while the majority of our men had gone with Fergus to Ostagar. They killed Fergus' wife, Oriana, and little Oren…" She stopped before she lost control of her voice.

"And your parents," he finished for her. "I'm sorry." Elissa opened her eyes in surprise as she felt his hand squeeze her arm briefly.

"Thank you," she said almost calmly. "I almost wish you could have displayed his head on a pike outside the palace, like the Orlesians used to do."

He made a face at her. "That's… rather disgusting, actually."

Elissa lifted a shoulder in what was almost a shrug. "Maybe. But very satisfying." She sighed. "Sometimes I'm almost glad Teyrn Loghain is dead. I don't think I could have ever brought myself to speak to him again after he allied himself with Howe."

The king turned to her abruptly, his expression livid. "_Almost_ glad? He killed—"

"Ah, Alistair, there you are," Arl Eamon said from the outer room and they turned to face him. Elissa was almost certain that her face betrayed nothing, but the king visibly fought for composure.

"His Majesty was telling me of the battle of Denerim," Elissa said, with the appropriate gravity.

"I see," Arl Eamon said, looking from her face to the king's. "My lady, your new secretary and the head servants are waiting to meet their new mistress."

Elissa arched an eyebrow at such a rude dismissal; was the man truly underestimating her to such a degree, or was he trying to demonstrate his power over the king? In any case, there was no need to make an issue of it now. "Oh yes, certainly," she said with a cheerful smile. "Thank you for arranging it, my lord. Your Majesty, thank you so very much for the honour of your personal guidance." She laid her hand briefly over the king's arm, looking up into his now emotionless face.

He bowed briefly, no trace of his former smile on his face now. "My lady." Obviously there was a personal connection to Loghain's death that she had previously overlooked; stupidly short-sighted of her. Something else she made a note to look into.

Following Eamon she caught Fergus' eyes as she saw him outside in the corridor. He nodded to her briefly: message received and understood.

The meeting with the servants was very interesting indeed, Elissa thought in amusement, as she tried to guess who was paid to spy on the household by what noble. The secretary was clearly an employee of Arl Eamon's; it was the deliberation and the carefully worded non-answers that gave away the taste of an experienced politician. The personal maid chosen for her (an indignity in itself, as normally a noble bride would bring her personal servants with her to her new husband's home) was both terrified and calculatingly fawning, so clearly one of Franderel's plants. The under housekeeper, amusingly, might turn out worth keeping after a private talk with her; the intelligence in the elven woman's eyes might be worth her shady origin and double agents were always handy.

Eventually the amusement, what little of it there had been in the first place, had worn off, and Elissa asked to be escorted to meet her brother, taking care to seem a little overwhelmed and possibly even teary-eyed. It wasn't very difficult, as she was deep in thought and exhausted by needing to think in two directions at once.

The men, she noticed upon being brought to the downstairs hall they had retired to again, had been served refreshments in the meantime. Fergus threw her a wry look noticing her expression, but of course he could not offer her anything unless the king did first. The king, however, did not seem inclined to offer anyone anything, judging by his expression, unless it involved a pike outside the palace.

"Let us allow His Majesty to take leave of his betrothed in as much privacy as we can grant them, my lords," Fergus said pleasantly. "My sister is used to much smaller castles, I'm afraid."

Judging by Arl Eamon's face, the suggestion did not sit well with him, but he could not easily contradict a teyrn, even a young one. The four men walked to the other side of the room, three of them shooting the king and Elissa suspicious glances.

Turning her head to the side, Elissa gave the king an obviously artificial smile. "I have such a headache from saying one thing and thinking another," she murmured as quietly as she could; it wasn't even a lie.

The king's shoulder relaxed a fraction. "I thought you learned how to do this from the cradle?"

"There was a reason my father lived in Highever and not at court," Elissa replied.

"Promise me something," the king said suddenly.

Elissa made a conscious effort not to change her posture in any way. "Your M— what, Alistair?"

"Promise me that if you want something from me or are angry with me, you'll speak plainly. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder with _you_ as well." She couldn't make out his expression.

"We promised to respect each other and trust each other," Elissa whispered. "If we both do that, it will be a relief to speak the plain truth to you – unless you grow tired of it. This morning I was told no sane man would want to marry me."

"Who said I was sane?" the kind said, too seriously for her liking. "And I think I like your brother."

"How did you—Maker's breath." Elissa sighed. "Inviting me to speak plainly, Your Majesty, is also inviting me to speak to you as I speak to him. Which, as per the law concerning your royal person, is forbidden to me."

"Oh, you call him names? That I have got to hear," the king said, a true, if small, smile coming back to his face. "Also, I thought we'd agreed that I have a name? Insignificant little thing, can get lost in protocol, but there you are."

"I grew up with a castle full of knights and veterans, _Alistair_," Elissa said, forcing her teeth to unclench. "If I had called my brother everything I wanted to, this morning, Arl Eamon would be looking for another bride already."

The king shook his head impatiently. "I don't care what Eamon wants. Look, I'm supposed to give a ball in your honour in two weeks."

Elissa nodded; that wasn't news.

"Can we meet after that and talk?" he continued, sounding almost desperate.

"I will think of something," Elissa promised, just as the four lords made their way back to them.

"I remember my wife being nervous before her wedding," Franderel said with false cheerfulness. "She got over it fast enough."

Elissa just curtseyed in order to hide her expression.

"Your Majesty, my sister and I are deeply grateful for the honour bestowed upon us," Fergus interjected, as usual reading her correctly.

"It was my pleasure, Teyrn Cousland," the king said with the proper – and yet somehow still wrong – lack of expression. "I hope to see you at the ball."

"Certainly, Your Majesty, and may I thank you again for your invitation," Fergus said, offering Elissa his arm.

"Such an honour, Your Majesty," Elissa said, not looking up.

They were silent on their walk through the freezing palace and even during the ride back. Elissa was too deep in thought to even be annoyed at the unusual saddle or the snail-like pace.

At Bryland's estate, after being told that the master was not yet back, Elissa dismissed the servants with a cheerful smile and a request for tea and food to be served, to their genuine horror, in her rooms.

Fergus followed her inside without a word and collapsed into an armchair. "There was a _reason_ Father lived in Highever," he said glumly.

"Eamon presented me with a secretary _and_ a maid," Elissa said with a thin smile, sitting down across from him.

"A personal maid of _their_ choosing?" Fergus' eyebrows shot up. "They cannot think you'd be so stupid."

Elissa shrugged impatiently and then looked down at her gown. "Let me change into something normal," she muttered, and walked into her dressing room.

"I hope Bryland finds somebody suitable," Fergus said loudly enough for her to hear. "I'd hate to give you a Highever girl; we're short of servants as it is."

"I know," Elissa called back, struggling with tiny hooks of her bodice, "and most of them are fishermen's daughters, anyway. I'm more concerned about the secretary, to be honest. The one they presented me was well qualified; it will be difficult to get rid of him if Leonas doesn't find a good substitute."

"Bryland is unexpectedly good with finding trustworthy people," Fergus said, as Elissa, now wearing an old blue house dress, came back into the sitting room. "I'm more concerned about my future brother-in-law."

"What about him?" Elissa asked sharply.

"Calm down, brat; I actually thought he was a decent fellow, all things considered," Fergus said. "But they're eating him alive there. Eamon first, of course, but his influence is declining. He's treating him like a boy – which he is, granted, but he is also the king, by Eamon's hand or not, and Eamon would do well to remember it. The king could do worse than Sighard; that one was always an honest one, much to his wife's displeasure. But—"

"Franderel," Elissa said grimly. "I remember something about him. Something in connection with Urien's son…"

Fergus barked an unexpected laugh. "Do you know what happened to that creep Vaughan Urien in the end?"

"I'd assumed he died at Ostagar," Elissa said, not quite a question.

"Hah! His father decided to keep him safe in Denerim. And with Arl Urien away, he continued… well, you know what he liked to do. Eventually he was – imagine that! – killed by an elf from the Denerim alienage whose bride Vaughan abducted for one of his 'parties'. But, and this is the crazy part, you will never believe what happened to that elf."

Elissa's lips curled into a wry smile. "Let me guess. He was recruited by the Grey Wardens, survived Ostagar and went on to unite Ferelden, get the dwarves and the Dalish to fight besides us, and then killed the archdemon and ended the Blight."

Fergus gaped at her and blinked a few times before managing to close his mouth. "How—how did you know?"

"Alistair said the other Warden had been a city elf," Elissa said, her smile growing into a grin.

"Oh, it's _'Alistair'_, is it?" Fergus asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Elissa swatted at him tiredly. "Stop that. I'm more afraid for him than of him."

Fergus grew serious so quickly, she barely had time to blink. "Yes. And you are right about Franderel. He used to run with Vaughan's crowd. His tastes didn't stop at elf maidens, either." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "I know some families were paid off, but some were… silenced in other ways."

"I told the king to be careful around him. I'm not sure if playing our hand too early would be a good thing, here."

"No," Fergus said firmly. "Leave it until after you're married. It'll be safer that way." He sighed. "They spent most of the time trying to find out what my intentions were and whether I could be trusted to keep you in check when you were queen."

"And they told the king to curtail my power, when in the beginning I was sold as the sole answer to his political inexperience," Elissa said. "I don't think they'll try anything _too_ drastic, but do be careful when hiring staff for the Highever Estate."

"They won't try to assassinate you; you have too much value as a Cousland," Fergus said. "But there might be Serious Talks."

"I don't mind those; that particular tool works both ways," Elissa replied. "I learn as much about them as they about me. I'm worried about him, however."

Fergus hummed absently in agreement. "There is something about his manner," he said eventually. "The court ways suit him about as well as they would any other soldier. He doesn't have the confidence to act smoothly, and knowing he is not playing his own role doesn't give him any _more_ confidence. It might have been a deliberate tactic by Eamon, I think."

"I was thinking about that," Elissa admitted, sighing. "I can't see another way. He needs to learn to act, and he needs to learn quickly, as little as it may suit him. And you are right; it feels so very wrong."

"Hmm."

"What?" Elissa asked in vague irritation. "Don't hum at me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking we are looking at it from the wrong angle... Oh, do stop hitting me, I'm getting there."

Elissa lowered her hand and arched an eyebrow.

Fergus grimaced. "If I talked as quickly as I thought, we'd be in Fort Drakon by now. Anyway, what I meant is, he needs something entirely different, I think. Everybody _knows_ he is Maric's bastard and a Grey Warden; there is neither any need nor any way to hide it. So maybe we should forget the way we all act and look at it differently."

"Like what?" Elissa asked, intrigued. Fergus words rang true, certainly truer than the king's wooden playacting of the usual court behaviour, earlier.

"I don't know him well enough for concrete ideas, but _you_ are starting to. He needs to develop another way; something that feels so natural to him that he can do it easily and gain confidence from it, but something that will also satisfy the foreign envoys and the Landsmeet. You'll need to discuss it with him, and soon."

"Yes," Elissa said slowly. "You are right. But it will be difficult."

Fergus snorted. "Yes, and Andraste was burned at the stake. Tell me something I don't know." He cocked his head, listening. "I think Bryland's just come in."

"Ask him if he wants to eat in here with us," Elissa said. "I think it's time for another strategy meeting."


	5. 4 Shadow Politics

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay; RL has been insanely busy lately. Thanks to Crisium and to Lilith Morgana for the beta and the hand-holding. All remaining mistakes are mine._

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"I simply don't know what to _do_," the arlessa of South Reach said for the third time, pacing the length of the main drawing room of the Highever Estate. A great deal younger, smaller and stouter than her husband, Hulda Bryland faintly resembled a fuzzy round vole. The resemblance was made stronger by her habit of clutching her fists under her chin and twitching when she was nervous.

"School _may_ be the best option," she continued, her heavy skirts swishing about her as she turned. "But I don't want my girl shut away in a _cloister_, or all the way in _Orlais_!" Her voice rose in distress.

Elissa watched her pace from the window seat, absently crunching a wrinkly winter apple. In Hulda's presence she abandoned all pretence of being an adult, not to mention the next queen of Ferelden, and curled up on the cushioned seat like a child.

"Hulda," she said eventually, when the arlessa's pacing threatened to make them both dizzy, "I don't care if she shouts at me; let her call me names or accuse me of carrying out an affair with Leonas all she wants, but she is starting to gain a certain _reputation_ in Denerim…"

Hulda turned around, fists once more pressed to her mouth, but this time in amusement. "You, having an affair with Leonas? Oh, how _funny_!" Suddenly her smile slipped. "Oh, Elissa, love, surely they're not _talking_ about her? We'll need to get her _married_, and _soon_!"

"Your servants are discreet, as usual," Elissa said. "But there are people visiting your husband, and there have been more since I arrived. Now that they know he is connected to the future queen—"

"Oh, I _still_ can't believe it," Hulda exclaimed. "And the new king is so very _handsome_, too!"

"Hulda," Elissa said sternly.

"Yes, yes, I _know_," the arlessa said, pouting. "But you'll make a _very_ handsome couple. _Young_ and _pretty_ and—"

"Hulda! I am not pretty, and we were talking about Habren."

Hulda deflated. "Oh, darling, _must_ you?"

"Hulda…"

"Oh, don't _look_ at me like that, my dear. It makes you look _just_ like your father, and I used to be _so_ afraid of him!"

Elissa laughed in surprise. "Afraid of my father? Hulda, really!"

"Oh, it's easy for _you_ to say, darling, but I was just a minor bann's daughter, barely more than a child, and he was a _war hero_ and a _teyrn_ and—"

"And your husband's best friend," Elissa said with a grin. "He loved Leonas, and he was very fond of you. And you know my mother loved you, too."

"Oh, but that was _later_, darling, when they got to know me better. But your father had that _dreadful_ serious _look_ of his..!"

It had indeed taken her parents some time to realise that behind the silly, excitable exterior there was a sharp mind and a kind heart, Elissa remembered with a grin. Her father had even tried to politely inquire of Leonas if his friend had lost his mind, marrying such a silly girl. Considering both the teyrn and the arl had been quite deep in their cups at the time, they had nearly come to blows, much to the mingled horror and amusement of their wives and servants, not to mention Fergus and Elissa, who had snuck out of their beds to watch the spectacle.

"Hulda," Elissa said seriously, banishing all traces of the grin off her face. "Leonas is doing his best, but people do talk, and Habren has been running the seamstresses and the merchants ragged. Something needs to be done. She is scared and insecure, especially around her father. Has Leonas…" she trailed off, not sure how to phrase it.

Thank the Maker Hulda understood her immediately. "Has he had an _affair_, you mean? I don't _think_ so, although of course he spends a lot of time in the city because of politics, you know. He may have fooled around with a servant, or gone to one of those _places_—"

Elissa dismissed the thought with a sharp gesture. "No, he wouldn't go anywhere he could be seen; it's too dangerous for him nowadays. And, frankly, I think those very same politics, and Habren, leave him too exhausted to, er, fool around."

"Oh, I thought so as well," Hulda said earnestly, finally sinking on a settee. "He looks so very _tired_. Do you think it will be any better after your wedding, darling?"

Elissa sighed. "Not immediately. And I'm afraid I will continue to need his support, Hulda. I'm sorry."

"Oh, my love, you needn't be sorry_,_ not at _all_! We love you like a daughter, and the new king needs _good_ advisors," Hulda said very seriously. "I will try to spend more time in the city, too; Leonas might like that."

"Oh, I know he will," Elissa said. "He knows politics like the back of his hand, but, Hulda, frankly—"

"Frankly, he couldn't find his boots if you put _bells_ on them, and he is _useless_ with children," Hulda said with a mischievous grin. "Don't I know it! But he is a good man, a kind man. I _do_ love him," she confessed, lowering her voice.

"How positively indecent of you," Elissa said, trying not to laugh. "An arlessa, professing to love her husband, like some common merchant's wife?"

"Oh, you may well laugh, my love, but my very own _mother_ was _scandalised_ when she saw me making cow eyes at Leonas after we were married. She said that I _had_ him already, so why was I making a laughingstock of myself?"

"My parents married for love," Elissa pointed out, taking a bite out of the apple and making a face at the taste.

"Oh, yes, and wasn't _that_ a scandal? I was just a child at the time, of course, but I remember my parents _talking_. But," Hulda lowered her voice almost to a whisper, "I think Bryce marrying Eleanor was what gave my dear Leonas the idea to marry like… like a _commoner_, instead of picking one of the girls his parents had in mind for him."

"Come now, Hulda," Elissa admonished with a grin. "It was even said that King Cailan loved Queen Anora. Hardly commoners."

"Well, not _him_, at any rate. And you know what they said when she stayed barren." Hulda said darkly.

"Blood, blood, blood; sometimes it seems we never talk about anything else," Elissa said in disgust, putting her apple aside. "I'm marrying the king because I am a Cousland and his father happened to be a Theirin. Anora lost support from the conservatives because Teyrn Loghain had been a commoner. It's so vulgar, when you get down to it. All we care about is who has… lain with whom."

"Well, my love, not necessarily _lain_," Hulda said with a giggle, blushing. "Oh! Do you know what they _did_ to Anora, by the by? Nobody seems to know anything."

"I decided not to ask the king until we are married, in case I happen not to like it," Elissa said with a sigh. "After, we can talk about it, but if we quarrel before the wedding, people will find out. Oh, that reminds me." She sat up straight. "Have you brought many people to the city with you?"

"My maids and my ladies in waiting," Hulda said. "Why are you asking, my dear? Leonas _was_ saying he was looking for servants for you."

"Oh, yes. And he has a knack for it; I trust him. No, I needed… a loan, of sorts."

"_Do_ tell me," Hulda begged, curling up on the settee. "It sounds so _intriguing_."

"I _am_ telling you," Elissa said with a grin. It was impossible to stay downcast or serious for too long in Hulda's company. "I need a trusted – and I do mean a _trusted_ – upper maid or servant of long standing to have a… talk with one of the new servants in the palace."

Hulda hummed thoughtfully, and for one moment there was a sharp, focussed expression in her eyes that belied the silly exterior. "Not one of mine, I think. I left all the… _experienced _ones in charge of the boys, back home. But I think I know somebody."

"Oh?" Elissa asked, slipping out of the window seat and moving to sit next to Hulda.

"There is a woman… she used to work at Sighard's estate, I think. She manages Ser Hjordis' house now."

"Who is Ser Hjordis?" Elissa asked blankly.

"Oh, you've seen her, darling. Tall, blond, keeps fighting duels with the other knights. Terrible sense of humour, but _very_ pretty."

Elissa frowned. "I think I remember her… wait, wasn't she Alfstanna's lover some years ago?"

"There is no _'was'_ about it, darling," Hulda said with a wink. "They've been together these ten years _at least_."

"And this housekeeper of Hjordis', can she be trusted?" Elissa asked, refusing to be diverted with gossip.

"Oh, my dear, _yes_, indeed. She has been running errands for Alfstanna for years. You'll need to talk to them."

"So I will," Elissa said, making a mental note. "Thank you, Hulda. And now that you've given me such excellent advice, as always…"

Hulda twitched and pursed her lips. "Elissa, darling, I couldn't just send Habren _away_ to Maker knows where!"

"You sent her to the city with Leonas."

"I _know_ it was a mistake," Hulda said ruefully, and stood up to pace again. "But I didn't know what to _do_ with her back home. She kept shouting at the boys, and sulking, and positively _terrorising_ the servants. I thought maybe she'd _grow up_ a little, here in the city."

"She might stand a better chance of growing up where there are more girls her age, and schoolteachers to make sure she behaves as a young lady should," Elissa said. "Hulda, you said it yourself, you'll need to look for a husband for her soon, and apart from the merchants' talk, I fear Leonas has been a little too… free with his opinions regarding her to his friends."

"Oh, that _man_," Hulda moaned. "He _loves_ her, he really _does_, but I'll never know how he can be so _good_ at politics and so _bad_ at, well—"

"The rest of it," Elissa said dryly.

"I don't want her locked up in a _cloister_," Hulda said, her eyes brimming with tears. "_I_ was sent to a cloister, and I _hated_ it. The Chantry sisters were so _strict_!"

Elissa tried to imagine giggly, mischievous Hulda at a cloister, and failed. "What about an Orlesian school? I know they are expensive, but Habren seems well on her way to bankrupting the arling as it is."

"But it's so far _away_," Hulda said mournfully. "I would _miss_ her so."

"You can write to her. And visit her, too. It's not forever, Hulda, and she does need to learn to behave. She is a pretty girl, smart, an arl's daughter, and she has a decent dowry. All she lacks is—"

"Yes," Hulda said darkly, fists pressed so tightly against her lips that her voice was quite indistinct. "Oh, well. I shall have to talk to Leonas."

~o0o~

Elissa spent over two hours trying to compose a sufficiently bland letter to Bann Alfstanna and Ser Hjordis, before giving up and simply inviting them both to visit her at their earliest convenience. Considering the mayhem that the upcoming wedding was causing, any invitation of Elissa's would be understood to have a hidden meaning.

Fergus, when applied for permission, simply stared down at her, blinking.

"_You_ are asking _me_ if you may entertain guests? Brat, are you out of your mind? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

Elissa sighed. "It's your house. And besides, it's political."

"What isn't political these days, where you are concerned?"

It was a valid question, and Elissa, exhausted from writing dozens of painstakingly carefully worded letters and days of smiling politely at various people with more or less carefully hidden agendas just wished it could be all over. The certain knowledge that this was just the beginning of the "whole mess", to use Fergus' words, did nothing to improve her mood.

To her relief and vague amusement, Alfstanna and Hjordis called on her that very same afternoon. As merely Lady Elissa she would never have been able to command banns with a simple note, but as the future queen of Ferelden they would flock to her, if only out of curiosity. It was a strange feeling.

After the niceties had been exchanged and the servants had brought the refreshments and removed themselves discreetly, Alfstanna took her cup and gave Elissa a sharp-edged smile over its rim. "How can we be of service, my lady?"

Elissa leaned back in her chair, trying to warm her fingers on her own cup. The Estate of the Teyrn of Highever was somewhat warmer than some other big houses in Denerim, but even here it was still impossible to heat a huge stone room with a single hearth.

"Not service, Bann Alfstanna," she said bluntly, remembering their last meeting. "But I would like to discuss if I could trade a favour each with you and Ser Hjordis," giving a slight bow to the knight in question, "and repay them while I am still Teyrn Cousland's heir."

Alfstanna narrowed her eyes in thought. "I understand how you wouldn't want to start out already owning favours to people; it is a wise decision."

Elissa nodded. "Thank you, my lady. However, before we proceed, I would also like to mention the matter of confidentiality. I know you stand with Arl Bryland in the current politicial situation, but…" She trailed off with a smile.

"Perhaps your ladyship would like to state the matter first," Ser Hjordis said softly. "We can consider it unsaid later, if necessary." Alfstanna looked at her briefly, and then nodded assent.

"Very well," Elissa said. "Bann Alfstanna, you were at the Landsmeet when my husband-to-be and Arl Eamon brought forth the evidence that cost Teyrn Loghain his life?"

Alfstanna nodded, her lips thinning. "Indeed."

"Well," Elissa said, straightening, "I'm afraid Leonas protected me _too_ well, because while I received the impression that his majesty had a personal interest in the teyrn's death, I know not much more than that, and those wild rumours I have heard while I lived in hiding. I would like to learn the entire truth of what has transpired. If you cannot tell me, I would like to know if you can point me towards somebody who can."

Alfstanna paused, thinking, before nodding slightly. "I see. And the other favour?"

"Ser Hjordis," Elissa turned to address the other woman directly, "I was told that your housekeeper is both discreet and… experienced. There is a certain servant working at the royal palace, who was hired to spy on the royal household. Most of the servants are as well, of course, and they will be replaced, but that particular woman strikes me as promising. I would need somebody to find out if she can indeed be turned, and if so, what kind of protection or help she requires."

Hjordis nodded slightly, then turned to look at Alfstanna, an entire silent conversation passing between them. Elissa felt an unexpected pang of wistfulness; how often had she watched her parents communicate like that, without words, simply by the virtue of knowing each other so well?

The women turned back to her and Alfstanna smiled, faintly but genuinely. "I think we should be able to come to an agreement, Lady Elissa. Although I have barely spoken to the king and so can tell you only what happened at the Landsmeet."

Elissa nodded. "Of course, my lady. What are your terms?"

Unexpectedly, Hjordis snorted a rough, unladylike laugh. "Alfstanna, I like her. You've finally found somebody who'll talk straight without being rude."

Alfstanna smiled, briefly and brilliantly, before looking up again, as composed as she'd ever been. "I'm afraid it is something disappointingly simple for me, Lady Elissa."

Elissa, who had dealt with Fergus' entire correspondence since their return to Highever, raised an eyebrow. "Fishing rights?"

Alfstanna's lips twitched. "I do not wish to put myself in a position where I would need to bargain with Bann Franderel for anything, not even for a copper bit. My fishing boats have had the right to pass the bay for hundreds of years, however."

Elissa considered for a moment. The demand wasn't unexpected, and Fergus would be easy to convince; he'd usually left such matters to her as it was. "One month a year, for two years; Matrinalis or Solis. Agreement to be drawn up by our clerks and signed by you and Fergus within the week."

Alfstanna nodded. "Agreed. And as to the other thing... I will also speak for Hjordis."

Surprised, Elissa threw a quick glance at Ser Hjordis, who nodded, looking regally unruffled in a way that Elissa vaguely envied.

"There is a knight," Alfstanna continued, "a childhood friend of my brother's. A skilled fighter, although rather simple. He was wounded at Ostagar, but not seriously, and he survived the battle of Denerim unscathed. He has the Maker's own luck, Irmnric used to say. I would ask you to have the teyrn interview him and, if he is satisfied, make him one of his knights."

Elissa frowned. "My lady, while we are indeed in need of more knights—"

"You needn't worry," Alfstanna said with a sigh. "Even if I wanted to use him as a spy in your brother's household, I couldn't. He is far too stupid."

"He will tell you the same joke five times, always being the one to laugh loudest," Hjordis said with a sigh and a wince of her own.

"My household cannot support any more knights," Alfstanna said with a half-shrug. "At least not his kind. I deal in politics, Lady Elissa, and I need men and women who can think on their feet, not good-natured dumb swords with a liking for cheap ale. I merely ask that your brother interview him; if he deems him too… unsuitable, I will understand. But I owe this to my brother."

"Very well," Elissa said slowly. "I will inform my brother to expect the man – with your letter of recommendation?"

Alfstanna nodded. "Indeed. Hjordis' housekeeper will come to see you tomorrow. And now to answer your first question, my lady."

Elissa set her cup down. "I am listening."

"Most of us suspected what Eamon was about when he called for a Landsmeet," Alfstanna said slowly, visibly organising her thoughts. "It was not a secret that Eamon had a bastard of Maric's whom he wanted to use to challenge the throne. In the beginning, however, Eamon merely spoke out against Loghain and his recent politics… and as little as I liked having been ordered around by Loghain in those months since he had assumed the role of regent, I would have stood with him, because Eamon had little else to offer than this unknown boy who would be his puppet, and his contempt for Loghain as a commoner in the Landsmeet."

Elissa nodded. "Leonas was going to side with Loghain as well. Loghain was the hero who had led the armies before, and Arl Eamon is…"

"Utterly unsatisfied with his lack of importance, and has been for most of his life, yes." Alfstanna's eyes were steely. "I cannot respect a man who would value the accident of one's parentage over one's qualities, as Eamon is wont to do, and it was obvious that he was planning to rule through the boy – whom neither of us had seen before. And the only other son of Maric's we knew had been—"

"A disappointment," Hjordis said. She sighed. "Cailan was always trying to live up to Maric's memory, but it looked like he had very little idea what that memory should be, beyond the legend that had grown through songs and tales. And he wouldn't listen to Loghain, who had been responsible for a large part of what we knew Maric had supposedly accomplished."

Elissa nodded. "My father always said the same thing. He didn't regret not being elected king; he would have hated it, I think, although he would have done his duty by Ferelden. But he was very disappointed in Cailan." She paused, thinking. "The Wardens, were they with Eamon when he spoke?"

"No." Alfstanna smiled briefly. "They came in later, after Loghain had replied to Eamon. They had a golem and a dwarf with them; very dramatic."

"Rumour has it they were travelling with an apostate and assassins," Hjordis said, "and a Circle mage. One of them had the foresight to leave all those behind, however."

Elissa had the suspicion the foresight had not been Alistair's. "What happened then?"

"They presented their evidence against Loghain," Alfstanna said tightly. "We knew by then that Howe had been torturing people. Irmnric had been one of his victims, after all. They had killed Howe, which was already a big mark in their favour, where the Landsmeet's opinion was concerned, even though Loghain protested that Howe's crimes should have been brought before the seneschal."

"Yes, after he butchered my family and proclaimed himself the teyrn of Highever," Elissa said tightly. "Not almost a year later."

Alfstanna nodded. "Quite so. Howe had never been popular, as you know, and not even Ceorlic had the hypocrisy to mourn him. And their evidence against Loghain was terrible indeed: among other things, conspiring with Tevinter slavers and letting them capture elves in the Denerim alienage, as well as employing a blood mage to poison Eamon, which ruffled the Chantry's feathers. But in the end it was Anora's testimony that was the most damning."

"Anora spoke against her father?" Elissa asked, surprised.

"She accused him, in essence, of regicide." Alfstanna's voice had gone quiet. "She said he abandoned King Cailan in Ostagar to seize the throne and was now planning to kill her. And with Loghain refusing to see that the Blight was a greater danger than the Orlesians, with most of the south overrun and so many dead already… the Landsmeet was more united than I had ever seen it on any other issue in recent times."

Elissa swallowed. "Who ordered Loghain's execution?"

"Nobody," Alfstanna replied, still quiet. "Loghain refused to stand aside, so the Warden agreed to a duel to determine the winner."

"There haven't been duels in the Landsmeet for decades!" Elissa said, surprised.

"They were popular before the occupation, but not since," Hjordis said. Elissa thought there was a faint note of regret in the knight's voice.

"The Warden was very good," Alfstanna said meditatively. "Fighting with two swords is not easy in the first place, and he—ah, well." She exchanged a quick smile with Hjordis. "He won the duel. Loghain surrendered to him."

"But I thought—" Elissa began, then checked herself. "I apologise. Please continue."

"It _was_ a rather odd situation. Although the Warden accepted Loghain's surrender, Alistair demanded his execution anyway. He seemed to feel very strongly about King Cailan's and all the other Grey Wardens' deaths at Ostagar, and was blaming Loghain for those. And then the other Warden came in—"

"The… _other_ Warden?" Elissa asked weakly, feeling as if she was well on her way to losing track of the tale. "What other Warden?"

"An Orlesian, of all things. I don't exactly know where he came from, but he suggested making Loghain a Grey Warden instead of executing him."

"I see," Elissa lied. "And then?"

"And then your husband-to-be protested vehemently, my lady," Alfstanna said dryly. "He insisted that being a Grey Warden was a great honour Loghain was not worthy of, and that he would not fight beside him if the Warden – the Dragonslayer, that is – would make him one. So the Warden—"

"The Dragonslayer," Hjordis interjected. "The elf, not the Orlesian."

"Well, anyway, he shrugged and beheaded Loghain then and there," Alfstanna said, rolling her eyes at Hjordis.

"Oh," Elissa said, feeling rather overwhelmed.

"Does that answer your question, my lady?" Alfstanna said placidly, taking a sip of her no doubt cold tea. "I'm afraid it is all we saw. Eamon might know more, and the king most definitely does, but…"

"You answered most comprehensively, my lady. I thank you," Elissa said.

"You will soon have an opportunity to find out the entire story from your husband," Alfstanna said. "And speaking of the king, are you looking forward to your ball? The entire city is abuzz."

"Oh, certainly," Elissa said brightly. "Shall I ring for more tea?"

~o0o~

"I'm not going," Elissa said, examining her reflection in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. "Maker, what _have_ I been thinking?"

"The teyrnir of Highever thanks you, my lady," Fergus said gravely from the door. "Your… extensive purchases of silk and pearls were a great help in improving our trade relations with the Antivans."

"I hate you," Elissa said. "So, so much. Look at me! I look like a painted Orlesian doll."

"That's not my fault," Fergus pointed out. "I wasn't allowed anywhere near you when you were getting that dress made. And stop trying to kick me; you'll fall over again."

Elissa pulled at her heavy skirts and glared at the mirror again. The pearls in her ears dangled, the ones in her hair glittered, and the ones around her neck were choking her like a noose. The finely embroidered bodice of her dress was terribly itchy, even through her chemise, and the skirts would probably have weighted less had they been made of chainmail.

"I can't go there like this," Elissa said, trying to adjust her dress enough to allow her to breathe. "This is the last time they'll see me as a private person. They—"

"You haven't been a private person even when you ran around training with Gilmore, brat," Fergus said with a crooked smile. "You were the heir presumptive before… before Oren was born, and Father might have made you his heir anyway. I wouldn't have minded, you know. I would rather have lived… anyway. You look magnificent. As well you should, my lady, considering what this dress cost us – and what it signifies."

Elissa studied her pearl- and embroidery covered reflection and raised her chin.

"It was your decision," Fergus continued softly, and stepped to the side, so she could see him in the mirror. "But if you'd rather… if you absolutely hate it, I can still come up with an emergency in Highever, or—"

"I am a Cousland," Elissa interrupted him, and took a step back, so the mirror showed them both side by side. "We are Couslands. There is no going back."

"So go out there and be magnificent," Fergus said with a grin. "My sister, the future queen. I still can't—"

"Be on time anywhere?" Elissa suggested tartly. "Good thing we are a stone's throw from the palace."

"And in a few weeks you'll be living a stone's throw from—"

"I'm disowning you," Elissa said sweeping out of the room and muttering a curse as her skirts almost knocked over a small table.

"I think you've got it backwards," Fergus said, following her down the stairs to where the servants were waiting with the cloaks and the knights and torch-bearers stood waiting at the door.

Elissa took Fergus' hat that was being held by a maid and rammed it onto his head. "You need a haircut," she said sweetly.

"And you need some manners," he muttered, gesturing to the knights who fell into formation around them.

They had elected to walk to the palace, surrounded by knights and pages, because, as Fergus had pointed out at the time, it would have taken longer to saddle the horses than to ride the really negligible distance between the Highever Estate and the royal palace. The weather had held for days, and Elissa relied on her maid to shake out the worst of the dust from her hem to look presentable. Fergus was looking quite handsome as well in his dark blue velvet, and for once clean-shaved but for his beard. He also looked annoyingly comfortable. It was really quite unfair that women were saddled with bizarre jewellery and ridiculous clothing for these occasions while men could still wear trousers and doublets, Elissa thought.

When she entered the main hall of the palace on her brother's arm, she was assaulted by the glitter of the guests' finery and by the whispers that rose up as their entrance was announced. She smiled and nodded with practiced ease, already feeling a headache coming on.

When the king came to greet her, his manner and expression were as polished as any other noble's in the room. He was dressed in embroidered brocade, wearing it with only a slight hint of stiffness. It was only during the opening dance that she saw something like real emotion in his smile.

"You look very, er, nice," he offered, guiding her carefully through the steps.

"Thank you. It's probably the ugliest dress I've ever worn," Elissa said with perfect honesty, and then blinked, horrified at herself. "I do apologise, Your Majesty. I've been—"

"Don't," he said quickly. "Don't apologise. I've missed talking to, you know, real people."

Elissa, whose own "real people" only counted Fergus and the Brylands thought she knew exactly what he meant, although she made sure her tranquil smile did not give it away. "You dance very well."

"I was ambushed by several instructors a few weeks ago," Alistair said bitterly. "It was probably a good idea, but I would have appreciated some notice."

Another perfectly executed turn showed them Arl Eamon talking very seriously to Fergus, whose bland, polite expression could not quite hide the wry twist of his lips, although Elissa suspected not many people would recognise it for what it was. "I wonder what he is offering Fergus this time," she murmured. "Last I heard it was some rather lucrative trade contract in Orlais."

"For what?" Alistair asked when they came face-to-face again after a complicated figure. "And can he do that?"

"As long as it only involves his own personal contacts, yes. Although it's always best to keep an eye on those things. Redcliffe has always been very conveniently placed for all sorts of trade… arrangements," Elissa murmured. "He is trying to convince Fergus to exert his influence over me, so I don't get out of hand."

"You? But," Alistair visibly checked himself. Behind him, Elissa saw Bryland dance with Hjordis, both of them flushed and laughing, and Hulda and Alfstanna watching them with identical, indulgent smiles.

"Fergus was very amused when he first told me about it, but I think Arl Eamon is severely trying his patience by now. Fergus doesn't like politics very much," Elissa said and winced as she almost tripped over her skirts.

"Who does?" Alistair asked with a quickly hidden wince of his own.

"Bann Alfstanna, for example. She lives and breathes politics," Elissa said, pointing her chin in the woman's direction.

Alistair turned to look, but then shook his head impatiently. "Can I talk to you later? In private I mean. I don't know how—"

"I talked to Fergus about this; he knows," Elissa interrupted him, speaking quickly as the dance was winding to a close. "We will approach you after dinner."

Alistair bowed over her hand, disengaging them gracefully and leading her back to her chair. The dance tutors had done their job, Elissa thought, but the acute sense of wrongness that had overcome her last time she had seen the king show the expected court manners was still there.

The rest of the dance and dinner was exquisite and expensive torture. In the end, she attached herself to Fergus' arm like a barnacle, both preventing people from trying to approach him regarding her, and from doing more than plying her with polite small-talk.

At the agreed time, Fergus, looking exhausted under his calm façade, guided them towards the king, who was being talked at by a grim Arl Eamon and a thin-lipped Bann Franderel.

"Your Majesty, my lords," Fergus said with a reasonable imitation of cordiality. "I'm afraid my sister is fatigued and desires some little rest before the dancing resumes."

The king's eyes narrowed but he reacted quickly. "Let me accompany you to the gallery, Teyrn Cousland, Lady Elissa."

Franderel backed away with a bow but Arl Eamon was made of sterner stuff. "Allow me to escort you, my lady," he said with a kind smile.

Elissa pouted slightly, allowing her lips to tremble, and leaned closer to Fergus. "Oh, no, my lord, I couldn't possibly have you to trouble yourself so," she said as weakly as she could.

Fergus pressed his lips together tightly but almost instantly regained control of his expression. "Thank you, Arl Eamon, but I think I will be glad of a walk. I am still unused to such gatherings after the simple pleasures of Highever."

The three of them were silent on the way to the gallery, until they passed a maid who was polishing a brightly shining doorknob. She curtseyed to the king before turning and curtseying to Elissa as well.

Elissa let go of Fergus arm with a sigh and tried to stretch her shoulders within the confines of her dress. "Oh Maker. I think I've been raining pearls all evening."

"Was the maid one of Bryland's?" Fergus asked. "I thought she looked familiar."

"She begged to be allowed to work at the palace," Elissa said absently, pulling at her sleeve. "I hope Your Majesty has no objections," she added belatedly, looking up at the king.

"My Majesty doesn't," Alistair said, looking after the maid in some bemusement. "So who is actually working at the palace now?"

"Since I am not in charge of the household yet, there are still the same, ah, informants as there have been before," Elissa said. "However, the under housekeeper could be persuaded to… assist and has accordingly hired several trusted servants."

The king shook his head. "Do I even want to know how you managed it? No, forget I asked; I really don't want to know, do I?"

"It might be for the best," Fergus said with a smile that did nothing to hide his exhaustion. "If you wish to talk to my sister in private, Sire, I will wait here, with your permission." He nodded at a nearby bench.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," Alistair said, and then offered Elissa his arm. "My lady?"

"Your Majesty," Elissa said, taking his arm with one last glance at Fergus, who waved her off.

"Is he all right?" Alistair asked quietly once they were halfway down the gallery.

"He is…" Elissa considered her answer carefully. "He has lost everything in his life. Being in Denerim and part of court politics is exhausting for him, but it's better than the alternative of being lost in memories, if he were to stay in Highever."

"Yes, keeping busy helps," Alistair agreed quietly, and looking up Elissa saw a shadow cross his face briefly. "So," he said with brightness that could almost pass for real. "I actually wanted to introduce you to somebody first."

Elissa blinked. "Introduce me to whom?" she asked, her mind offering and discarding more and more unlikely scenarios.

"You'll see in a minute," Alistair said with a real smile as he led her down a corridor. "Well. I hope you'll like each other, because—" he pushed a door open and stepped back.

The shape sprawled in front of the low fireplace was so familiar that Elissa took a step into the room without realising she'd done it, before coming to a standstill. One didn't just enter a room with an unfamiliar Mabari, at least if one valued one's life and limbs, her father's voice said at the back of her head. The great dog at the fireplace, however, just raised its head to look at her, but didn't even stand up.

"You didn't say you had a Mabari," she said to Alistair without taking her eyes off the dog.

"Uh, well," she didn't need to see Alistair to know that he was running his hand through his hair. "He isn't mine. He sort of… adopted Darrian after Ostagar. It's a long story. Anyway, after… well, after everything, he seemed content with living here with me. But he doesn't… he isn't mine."

"What's his name?" Elissa asked without moving.

"We didn't know," Alistair said, sounding embarrassed. "So we just called him, uh, Dog."

"I see," Elissa said carefully, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice. "Do you mind if I come in?" she asked the Mabari, and took his lack of reaction as assent, coming in and sitting down on the rug a few feet away. The rug looked reasonably clean and her dress deserved worse.

"My name is Elissa," she told the dog as it turned its huge head to look at her without otherwise moving. "I'm going to marry Alistair in a few weeks, so I will be living here in the palace. I hope you don't mind."

The dog – should she start thinking of him as Dog? – barked quietly and gave a low whine.

"Oh, I'm not, not at all. But you reminded me of my own Mabari, you see. I miss him very much. That's why I first came into the room without asking your permission." She swallowed, her habit of not-crying suddenly difficult to accomplish when facing somebody so familiar and yet so strange. "For a moment I thought you were… well, he was called Spear. Sorry. I was just a girl when I named him, and I thought it sounded wonderful; a Mabari attacking an enemy like a soldier throwing a spear. I do know how silly it sounds, now."

Dog barked and wagged his stub of a tail a little.

"Oh. Good to know. My brother laughed at it, though, and I know my father found it funny, though he never said. But I think my brother was just jealous; he didn't have a Mabari, he only has his hunting dogs."

Dog barked again, a little louder.

"Oh, yes, don't I know it. But it had its drawbacks, too. When Father took us hunting, Fergus' dogs did their job and at and the end of the day we had a brace of rabbits and some ducks, or what have you. And then, if I wasn't careful, Spear suddenly dragged in a deer."

Dog barked loudly, his tail swishing across the floor.

"Well, yes. But it meant Father and Fergus had to carry the deer back to the castle somehow, and deer are heavy. I've learned a lot of new and interesting curses that way."

Dog turned over on his stomach and put his head down just next to Elissa, looking up at her. He gave a brief, sad whine and nudged her knee.

"Oh." She swallowed against the sudden tears; expected but very unwelcome. "You know who Howe was, right?"

Over Dog's growl, Alistair said quietly from behind her, "He was there when we killed him."

"Oh, good boy!" Elissa said involuntarily. "Did you go for his throat?"

The triumph in Dog's bark was unmistakable, and the tail was again wagging.

"Well done! I hope you tore his jugular out," Elissa said. "I'll see if I can smuggle in something from the kitchens for you."

"Maker, remind me to always stay on your good side," Alistair said, a smile in his voice. "And I'll see about a steak for him, or something. The job _does_ come with some perks."

Dog barked quietly, nudging Elissa's knee again.

"Right, sorry. Howe… betrayed my father. He ordered everybody in the castle killed. Every servant and knight, Fergus' wife and son, and my parents. I was the only one who escaped. Spear…" She swallowed. "He took several arrows for me, and bled to death on the road. I had to— to," she forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. "I had to hide his body in the bushes, so they wouldn't find him and guess where I'd gone. I didn't even have the time to burn or bury it."

Dog whined and licked her hand briefly.

"Thank you," Elissa said thickly. "I didn't mean to tell you sad stories. I just wanted to introduce myself. It's… I missed having a Mabari around to talk to. I hope you won't mind me chatting your ears off when I live here?"

"He's probably used to it," Alistair said, coming to crouch next to her. "I talk to him all the time. He—ow!" He jerked his hand away. "He bit me!"

"I saw," Elissa said, biting her lip. "How would _you_ like it if somebody stuck a hand into _your_ face?"

"How come he didn't bite _you_?" Alistair asked, almost pouting. "You're a stranger."

"A well-behaved stranger," Elissa said primly, over Dog's bark. "The first rule of meeting a Mabari is to remember that he can kill you before you have time to draw a sword."

Dog bared his teeth in demonstration.

"I'll… just move over here, shall I?" Alistair said, but he was smiling.

Elissa looked back down. "You are right; the… job does come with some perks. I think perhaps we should go hunting, come autumn."

Dog barked happily, tail wagging.

"How does one hunt with a Mabari?" Alistair asked, sounding a little apprehensive. "I mean, I've seen him kill; it's just… how do you get him to _stop_ before there isn't a single animal left in the forest?"

"Well," Elissa said meditatively, suddenly feeling more cheerful, "either we figure it out, or we enjoy the 'perks' and have the guards carry the carcasses."

Alistair stood up and offered her a hand, smiling. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I," Elissa said, realising with some surprise that she was sincere. She let Alistair pull her to her feet and made a half-hearted attempt at brushing dust from her skirts. "Other than introducing us, was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

He looked away and Elissa thought he might have been blushing, though it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness. "I just wanted to… well, to talk to you. We're going to be married on Summerday."

Elissa nodded. "Indeed."

"I know we're getting married because of… politics," he went on doggedly. "But we're going to have to live together."

"So we are," Elissa said. She nodded at a group of chairs at the far end of the room. "What did you want to know about me?"

Alistair waited until she sat down before sprawling over a chair. "I don't even know… it was a stupid idea. I'm sorry."

Elissa looked at her king, seeing a tired young man with a pinched and unhappy expression. "I like apples," she said after a moment. "I suppose I ought to like fish, because we eat so much of it in Highever, but I think I already grew tired of it when I was a child. I used to like riding and hunting, before."

He looked up, a smile lighting his face. "Good; I can't stand fish," he said. "I love cheese. All kinds."

"Even that… fuzzy gooey cheese?" Elissa asked, grimacing.

"Hey, that's the good stuff!" he protested, still smiling.

Was it possible to be friends with one's husband, Elissa wondered abruptly? She knew her parents had been friends as well as lovers, but they had married for vastly different reasons under vastly differently circumstances. It might be nice, she thought tiredly. Relaxing together after a long day with somebody she liked, with no thoughts of politics or anything more serious than, say, cheese. She couldn't quite imagine it, but it might be nice.

"Alistair," she said and waited until he looked at her, alerted by her serious tone. "Fergus mentioned something to me, and I think he was right. You're not… comfortable with the court manners, are you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"It is really too obvious, even though you've gotten very good," Elissa said gently. "But any of the… players can see your dislike. I think you need… something else."

Alistair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face. "Something like what?" he asked, voice muffled by his hands.

"Something else better suited to you. Something that won't stifle you so much and won't require you to waste so much strength on it."

He looked up, looking lost and tired. "I was trained to become a templar," he said resignedly. "And then I spent six months with the Grey Wardens before I was suddenly one of those really crazy people who decided to assemble an army out of nothing to fight the Blight. There _is_ nothing better suited to me; just killing darkspawn." He sighed. "I _miss_ killing darkspawn. At least they didn't make small-talk before they tried to cut your head off."

"Some middle ground, then," Elissa persisted. "Something more… _you_."

Alistair shook his head. "Eamon and the others… you don't know what it's like."

Elissa realised that he was probably right. Even when Aldous and her other tutors had been overwhelming her with work, there had always been her family to turn to, or some escape to be had with the knights on the training grounds. Alistair, on the other hand, was alone.

"Do you still train?" she asked absently. "Templars usually fight with sword and shield, don't they?"

He frowned, startled. "I… yes. I talked them into letting me train with the captain of the guard every morning. Why do you ask?"

"I haven't touched a sword since I left Highever," Elissa said. "We'll need to be careful at first, lest they think you're simply beating me and not besting me on the training grounds."

He was really very handsome when he smiled. "You fight? Well, of course you would. It will be a pleasure to win against you, dear lady. Duel with you, I mean. Obviously."

"Obviously," Elissa echoed. "I think we should go wake Fergus up before we're missed."

He followed her into the corridor, closing the door with a nod to Dog, who had watched them leave. "Do you think…" he began carefully, before shaking his head. "Sorry, never mind."

"Do I think what?" Elissa said, taking his arm and wincing as yet another pearl detached itself from her sleeve.

Alistair wasn't looking at her, and she couldn't make out his face in the flickering shadows from the wall torches. "It won't be all politics, will it? I mean, not all the time. The training…"

_Was it possible to be friends with one's husband?_ "It won't be all politics," Elissa said with far more certainty than she felt. "I'll even let you win some of the duels."

* * *

_Next chapter we'll finally get to the wedding. And, you know, other things. Promise!_


	6. 5 Queen of Ferelden

_A/N: Sorry for the late update, but the chapter and RL both wouldn't cooperate. Many thanks to Crisium and Lilith Morgana, betas and hand-holders and sounding boards extraordinaire. All remaining mistakes are my own._

_Please note: as of this chapter the story is rated M._

* * *

So this was how you got married to a king.

It all got arranged for you. There were no white horses.

The past flipped straight into the future, carrying you with it.

_Terry Pratchett, "Lords and Ladies"_

_.  
_

~o~

.

"This is probably the point where you should be getting cold feet and having second thoughts," Fergus said from the settee.

"Hmm, yes," Elissa murmured in agreement, and moved the candle closer to the letter she was writing. "Do you want some more tea?"

"No. Yes. I used to hate tea," he said absently.

Elissa didn't point out that there were a lot of things Fergus used to hate, such as spending a mostly silent evening lying on a settee. Before, he'd been a whirlwind of energy: hunting, training, playing with Oren, teasing Oriana, drinking, laughing; anything but sitting still. Now, he was slower and quieter, lost in thought when there was nothing to occupy him. She'd even seen him with a book a few times, while the Fergus of old had never, to her knowledge, set foot in the Highever library unless forced by Aldous or the teyrn.

Putting her quill down she poured two fresh cups and walked to the settee and looked pointedly at Fergus until he swung his legs down to make room for her.

"I don't have _time_ for cold feet," she said when they were sitting down side by side. "Arl Eamon is insisting my coronation should be delayed until Parvulis, my seamstresses are in hysterics, and every other note is from the palace cook, asking if I want this or that served at the banquet."

Fergus frowned, lowering his cup. "Until autumn? Has he gone mad? It's bad enough when the entire Landsmeet has to come here for Summerday while half the country lies in ruins; they won't stand for coming here again during harvest season."

"Which is exactly what I wrote him, and Alistair, only I phrased it differently each time," Elissa murmured into her tea. "Maker, I wish it was all over. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in weeks."

"And it's not like you'll get much sleep on your wedding night, either," Fergus said with a wink over the rim of his cup.

Elissa would have elbowed him, if not for the danger of spilling their cups. "Will you stop making jokes about my wedding night? It's bad enough as it is."

Fergus looked suddenly uneasy. "I thought you and—should I ask Hulda to—?"

Elissa looked sideways at his suddenly pale face and dissolved into giggles. "Oh, your expression just now! What do you think we were _doing_ all those times you caught us?" She sniggered and took a quick gulp of tea to calm down. "If you want to get down to the sordid details, it just feels strange to think about bedding somebody I barely know." Another, less welcome, memory intruded, but Elissa pushed it away and locked it down tightly.

Fergus looked uncomfortable enough that she thought she had her revenge anyway. "Can we not talk about you bedding anyone, please?"

"You started it," Elissa pointed out and leaned back with a sigh. "Maker, I can't wait till it's all over. There'll be still so much to do, but at least I'll be able to do a lot of it out in the open, and won't need to smuggle notes to Alistair through the palace servants."

Fergus was silent for so long that eventually she turned her head to look at him. He was frowning. "I keep thinking, you know," he said eventually. "Wondering if this or that is what Father would have wanted, or if I'm doing right by you and by the teyrnir. Whether Mother would have agreed—"

"We can't," Elissa said gently, putting her cup down and reaching over to squeeze Fergus' shoulder. "I was like that when I was first trying to put the castle back in order, but then I realised that I'd go mad if I only went by what I imagined they would have wanted. Besides, I think the first thing they would have wanted is for us to be happy, and not to look over our shoulders at the smallest decision."

"It's not exactly the smallest decision, you becoming queen of Ferelden," Fergus said with a sigh.

"No. But it was Alistair's and mine to make, not yours, and not our parents'. And they trusted you to do the right thing," Elissa said. "They had complete faith in you."

"I keep thinking," Fergus repeated as if he hadn't heard. "What if I'd left the next morning? What if I'd sent Oriana away? What if—"

"What if I'd stayed behind with Mother to defend my liege-lord and not allowed them to push me out of the door?" Elissa asked quietly.

Fergus turned to her, frowning. "What kind of stupid question is that? You'd be _dead_."

Elissa held his gaze for a long moment. "Yes. And you couldn't have left later because Father ordered you to leave when you did. Fergus, it's no use to dwell on things we can't change any more."

He stood up suddenly, his cup hitting the coffee table so hard it overturned, spilling the dregs. "How can I _not_ dwell on things?" he asked without turning around. "My wife is dead, my boy is dead; I didn't even get to burn them! Our parents are dead, and now—" he broke off suddenly but Elissa was already on her feet, coming to face him.

"You big oaf," she said, putting her arms around him. "Remember what you told me in Highever? I'm not _leaving_ you, Fergus. In fact, I was just thinking how to talk you into staying in Denerim for a few weeks after the wedding. You're not losing me as well."

He drew a hand over her hair, before pressing her head into his shoulder so roughly that she was glad she couldn't see his face. "I couldn't face Highever on my own," he said hoarsely.

"You're not facing anything alone. Not while I'm alive," Elissa said. "And let me up, I can't breathe."

He held her a moment longer before letting go and looking down at her, his eyes wet but his lips quirked in a half-smile. "I know that look. What are you up to? You'll be busy; the only way I'll get to talk to you would be during an audience."

"I have an idea," Elissa said, walking back to the settee. "But I need to talk about it with Alistair first."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"If you absolutely hate it, I'll find somebody else. But there are only so few people I can trust."

Fergus sat down next to her with a sigh and righted his cup, wiping the spilled tea with his sleeve and ignoring Elissa's subsequent wince. "I'm _really_ not going to like it, huh?"

Elissa smiled. "We'll talk after the coronation. I'll send word as soon as I've spoken to Alistair about the whoel thing." She stood up, stretching. "Maker, I still have so many letters to write, and tomorrow the dress should be ready, and I bet it isn't, and if it rains on Summerday I'm going to have to—"

"You," Fergus said, "are scaring me. I'm going to bed." He watched her walk back to the desk.

"Good night," Elissa murmured absently, her mind already back on the letter in front of her. "Oh, Fergus?"

He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"I love you," Elissa said, looking straight at him.

He blinked, surprised, then smiled at her. "I love you too, brat. Remember to sleep before the wedding. It's only two days away."

"Oh, did you _have_ to remind me?" Elissa moaned, looking back at the letter.

~o0o~

"This is ridiculous," Elissa muttered under her breath.

"Yes, but it's very expensive, so everybody will pretend it's beautiful," Fergus replied, scanning the courtyard.

"Not the dress!" Elissa took a deep breath and fought to keep her expression calm. "Also, wait. Pretend? You were praising it just ten minute ago!"

Fergus stopped and turned to her. "Do you really want my honest opinion on your dress? Today?"

Elissa looked down at the stiff embroidered brocade and the yards of lace and stifled a sigh. "Just imagine, the ambassadors of Orlais and Antiva and everywhere will write home how ridiculous the Queen of Ferelden…" she trailed off, the thick lace at her collar suddenly too constricting.

"Ah, it's finally sunk in, has it?" Fergus asked, stepping closer. "Breathe."

"Can't," Elissa said, pulling at her collar, pressed so carefully by the maids. "Fergus, I—"

"No, we can't call it off," Fergus said, squeezing her shoulders. "It's going to be all right, brat. Just breathe. Do you remember my wedding?"

Elissa blinked. Of course she remembered. It had been a loud and boisterous affair, with Oriana looking faintly self-conscious and Fergus being toasted by everyone, from their father down to the least important lord; it had seemed like every noble in the North had come to pay their respects to the Cousland heir and his exotic bride. They'd had to put up trestle tables in the courtyard to accommodate all the well-wishers, and there had been music and dancing and—

Fergus let his hands fall. "Better now?"

Elissa swallowed and nodded. "Thank you. It was a lovely wedding, wasn't it? Was Oriana very scared by the uncivilised Fereldans?"

"A little, but she enjoyed the fuss everybody made. Until then, I don't think she'd realised what being a Cousland entailed," Fergus said; his smile more fond than wistful.

"Getting married in this parody of a dress, for once," Elissa said, consciously straightening her shoulders.

"Every lady in there will be dressed in the same fashion, so what does it matter?" Fergus said absently. "Ah, there's the carriage."

The horses pulling the unwieldy vehicle were decked out in Cousland colours and not looking too happy about it. The Cousland coat of arms on the carriage itself had been freshly repainted and the whole gilded monstrosity looked suitably impressive – if only as an example of what one wouldn't want to be driven in.

Fergus looked at the carriage for a moment before turning back to Elissa. "You were saying about something being ridiculous?"

Elissa stared in fascinated horror before she could tear herself away. "Ah. Yes. I was thinking about us taking… _this_… to ride to the cathedral, through streets and alleys that were built long before carriages of this size were first manufactured; streets and alleys squeezed full of people. Then, after the marriage ceremony, everybody will be stuffed back into the carriages, which will be dragged back through the same narrow alleys again – still full of people – to the palace, where the coronation will take place. With, may I remind you, the very same people in attendance who will be at the marriage ceremony."

Fergus sighed. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Well," he shrugged, "yes. You are right. It's bloody ridiculous. What else am I supposed to say?"

"How about, 'let me help you into the carriage before we are late'?"

The Teyrn of Highever muttered a curse entirely unbecoming his station and offered Elissa his arm as a page swung open the creaky carriage door and let down the steps.

Elissa adjusted her dress, mindful of the splinters in the old wood and winced as the carriage jerked into motion. Moving back so she wouldn't be seen through the windows she looked up and met Fergus' eyes. Wordlessly he took her hands in his.

"It will be fine, brat."

"It needs to be better than fine," Elissa said, licking her dry lips. Outside, people were shouting and cheering. "Maker, I hope we don't kill anyone with this thing."

"That would be a slightly inauspicious start, yes," Fergus said.

Elissa rolled her eyes. "Just a bit."

Fergus smiled slightly. "_Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide._"

"What?"

"_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure_." Fergus's smile grew.

Elissa blinked, startled. "Why are quoting the Chant at me?"

"Because you need something to hold on to." He squeezed her hands. "When I learned about Howe… you know I don't care about the Chantry much."

Elissa nodded; Fergus' reluctance to attend services had been always very vocal and didn't even stop when Oren had been old enough to understand. "So what—?"

"So, it's comforting. The one thing that never changes, even if I fall asleep listening to it. _Let all repeat the Chant of Light. Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us."_

The shouts outside were growing louder. They were approaching the cathedral. "You want me to pray?"

"I want you to find comfort in whatever you can, brat," Fergus expression was unusually serious. "There is little enough of true comfort around. What does it matter what shape it comes in?" Her expression must have been telling, because he laughed, briefly and loudly. "I'm not about to join the Chantry; don't worry. And I wouldn't want _you_ to. It's not even about the Chant itself. Just remember, whatever makes you happy. It can be the oddest, strangest thing, but don't let that stop you. Grab it while you can."

"I…" Elissa smiled, confused but appreciative. "As fraternal advice goes, you could have done a lot worse. Thank you."

Now it was Fergus' turn to roll his eyes. "I'm overwhelmed by your gratitude, truly." The carriage jerked to a stop and he fell back against the upholstered wall. "Well, this is it. Your kingdom awaits you, my lady."

On an impulse, Elissa leaned forward to give Fergus a quick peck on the cheek, just before the heavy door was wrestled open and he jumped out, offering her an arm down the wobbly steps.

The square in front of the cathedral was full of people; nobles in colourful clothing milling about as well as commoners standing around the edges of the square, held back by the city guard. With the arrival of the Cousland carriage a hush fell over the crowd and people stood aside to form an empty space from the carriage to the cathedral doors.

Elissa felt very alone, slowly and stately walking the gauntlet of curious nobles, despite Fergus at her back and pages in front and behind them. She wouldn't have recognised her own mother in that crowd, she thought, her heart hammering in her throat. The silence and whispers felt oppressive, as if people were waiting for her to trip or do something outrageous.

Within the cathedral, light was falling through the stained glass windows, painting dust motes all colours of the rainbow, and the air was thick with the stink of sweat and the heat from the candles. At the dais Fergus stepped away, touching her hand briefly, and she took her place between two priests, to wait for her bridegroom.

Normally Fergus should have stood with her, but as the king had no immediate family and had refused to name Arl Eamon as a substitute, they had decided on standing in front of the Maker and His Bride's statue alone. _Like two beggars_, something nasty whispered in Elissa's mind, and she sought out Fergus in the front row before the dais. He gave her a reassuring grin.

Finally there was a commotion at the cathedral entrance and, carried in by the wave of nobles, the king entered. He was wearing gilded and sculpted armour that wouldn't have lasted him a minute on a battlefield, not to mention that it would have made him a prime target, but among the velvet and silk clothed nobles it did look make him regal and striking.

He walked through the silent crowd, alone, head held high and face expressionless, until he reached the dais, which he climbed with a single step. Elissa barely had room in her head to notice that he seemed different in armour, perhaps more comfortable, if such a thing was possible, before he was standing next to her and nodding to the Grand Cleric to begin the ceremony.

And then all she knew was the hush and the Grand Cleric's lined face and the shine of Alistair's armour by her side.

"In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light…"

She came to, like emerging from sleep, or deep water, when the king was escorting her through the now cheering crowd out of the cathedral. She must have given all the right answers, and there certainly was a wedding band on her finger, but all she could remember was the smell of beeswax and the fear and Fergus' pinched expression.

Outside, still without a word and blinking a little in the sunlight, both she and her husband – Maker help and preserve her – waved briefly to the crowd and were hustled into a carriage, bigger and proudly bearing the Theirin coat of arms.

She was a Theirin now, Elissa thought vaguely. How odd.

Despite belonging to the king, this carriage wasn't any more comfortable, and Elissa winced as a ribbon on her dress snagged on a nail head. Alistair was arranging himself across from her, wincing as well as his armour clashed and clamoured even against the upholstered benches.

"Remind me why you wanted me to wear the armour, again?" he muttered, trying to find a position that didn't require him to twist like a caterpillar on a grass stalk.

Elissa crashed back into her body. She was in the royal carriage, she was on the way to her coronation, her feet hurt, she was married to Alistair and he had just asked her a question.

"It would take only a single lucky assassin with a good crossbow," she said, looking up at him in the velvet-lined gloom. "You are more visible this way, but also less vulnerable."

Alistair made a face at her. "Such a cheerful thought for our wedding day; thank you." He sighed, turning to look out of the tiny windows, where the crowds, pressed against the sides of the streets, were cheering their carriage as they drove by. "King Cailan wore something like this at Ostagar. I think he even fought in it."

"Maker, did he really?" Elissa asked, surprised.

There was a clang as Alistair shrugged. "My… brother was not famous for his… foresight. Else I wouldn't be here." He leaned his head back against the wall and grimaced. "The armour reminds me of him. Maker's breath, _everything_ reminds me of him. I rule his kingdom, I sleep in his bed, and I all but married his wife. _Would_ have married her, if Eamon'd had his way."

"Alistair," Elissa said and waited for him to look at her. "You rule _your_ kingdom. You sleep in your bed. And you married me."

The frustrated dejection disappeared from his face and he gave her a guilty but genuine smile. "Oh, I know _that_. I could barely sleep last night. I mean, I was looking forward to it for weeks, and don't get me wrong, I'm _glad_ we did it. But still, it was…"

"A rather big step?" Elissa suggested wryly.

He snorted, trying to disguise it with a cough. "Yeees. Something like that."

Elissa pondered several possible answers, and decided on the truth. "This morning I was this close to taking the first horse from our stables and just riding off somewhere far, far away. Fergus, of all people, had to calm me down."

"I _definitely_ like your brother," Alistair said with a grin, but there was also something else in his expression, something that made Elissa remember that he had travelled across Ferelden for a year with companions who were now either dead or gone or unapproachable for a king.

The noise from outside was getting deafening; they must be near the palace now. And indeed, a moment later the carriage came to a stop and the roar from the crowd crested, and then abruptly faded into an expectant silence.

Alistair gave her a pained smile and pointed to the carriage door. "My lady?"

"Only two days of this," Elissa murmured.

Alistair's eloquent look said that those two days were two days too many, as he jumped out of the carriage and offered her his hand. The spectators, barely held back by the guards, cheered and called.

Tipping her chin up, Elissa took Alistair's arm, waited for the pages and the maids to arrange her dress and walked slowly to the entrance of her new home.

Just inside they were met by a bowing Chantry official. "Your Majesties, that is, Your Majesty, Your Highness, the Grand Cleric's carriage was delayed, I'm afraid, my deepest apologies, the crowds, you see, and—"

"Take a breath," Alistair said helpfully.

The official attempted to obey the royal order, inhaled deeply, and was promptly silenced by an uncontrollable bout of coughing.

"We shall wait in a private chamber until everybody is assembled, I think," Elissa said, with a glance up at Alistair, who nodded. "If you would be so good to send someone once the nobles are assembled and the Grand Cleric is ready?"

They watched the spectacle of the official trying to cough, bow, nod and thank them at the same time for a moment, before Alistair steered her through a side door and into one of the many waiting rooms off the throne room.

"Do you know that having the Grand Cleric crown a king or queen is an Orlesian custom?" he asked idly, examining a tapestry. "Apparently King Maric adopted it after the occupation because he wanted the Chantry's support. It's in the archives."

"Were you bored?" Elissa asked with a smile, sitting down on carved wooden bench.

Alistair turned back to her, smiling as well. "Hiding from Eamon. But there's a lot of really interesting stuff in the archives, you know? I never thought… We always speak of Maric as if he was created a perfect king the moment he was born. But he and Queen Rowan and," he winced, "Loghain, they had so much to do, after the occupation. They had to learn how to… how to rule Ferelden, I suppose."

Elissa nodded. "They had to learn, and they did so well that their names won't be forgotten for generations yet. You – we – can take comfort in that, can't we?"

"And what if it goes wrong?" Alistair asked, turning away again. "Maric was schooled to be a prince since his birth, and Rowan was—"

"And Rowan was not schooled any differently than I was, except on the battlefield," Elissa said sharply, before regaining her composure. "And, forgive me, but King Cailan was also schooled from birth to become a king. And he—"

"He was betrayed on the battlefield by his father's best friend!" Alistair said. His fists were clenched.

"I'm not talking about Ostagar," Elissa said gently. "I am talking about the five years of his reign. Or rather, Queen Anora's reign."

Alistair's lips tightened, but he said nothing.

"Cailan inherited much from King Maric," Elissa continued, standing up and crossing the room. "He was a good, kind man. I don't know how well you knew him…"

"Not at all. I met him once as a child, and then saw him briefly at Ostagar," Alistair said with a sigh. "I didn't even know he knew about me. Guess I should've been suspicious about how quickly he learned my name."

Elissa took his hand; it was sweaty like her own. "Cailan was a good man. But he was a bad king."

"So what are you saying?" Alistair asked roughly. "To become a good king, I will have to—"

"No," Elissa said quietly. "I'm saying you can be both. But I'm also saying that it won't be easy."

"What part of all this," Alistair's angry gesture encompassed the palace walls and the country beyond, "has been easy?"

"We promised each other that we would try hard and do our best, did we not?" Elissa asked.

Before Alistair could answer there was a timid knock at the door. "Enter," he said with a sigh.

A maid opened the door and curtseyed low enough for them to see the top of her head clearly. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, if it pleases you, the Grand Cleric is ready."

Elissa dismissed the maid with a nod and took Alistair's arm again, her fingers leaving sweaty fingerprints on the polished armour. Without a word they walked the corridors to the king's entrance of the throne room, where Alistair disengaged himself gently and gave her a shaky smile.

"See you on the other side," he said and took a deep breath, opening the ornate door and stepping through.

The rest was easy enough. Elissa waited to be announced as the king's wife and Ferelden's future queen, Alistair's voice carrying clearly through the door, before entering and kneeling in front of the throne. The ceremony itself was simple, if not quick, and her knees and back were aching by the time the Grand Cleric spoke the last prayer and Elissa could rise and turn to the assembled nobles.

"My lords and ladies of Ferelden," Alistair said loudly behind her, "I present to you your new Queen!"

~o0o~

The banquet was served in the big formal dining room, on several tables that were groaning under the weight of the dishes. Elissa was hungry enough, but mostly she was grateful for the opportunity to sit down and do nothing more strenuous than be toasted and smile. Alistair, who had changed out of the gilded monstrosity into embroidered brocade, looked similarly glad to be sitting down.

"The armour was almost more comfortable," he muttered to her, adjusting his collar. Then he looked over the spread of the food in front of them and his eyes lit up. "Ohh, there's some Anderfel Blue! Do you want any?"

Elissa silently blessed the palace's overworked cook who'd told her about the king's not-so-secret weakness. "No, thank you." She watched as Alistair cheerfully served himself, ignoring the nervous servants hovering in the background and smiled at one of the terrified maids as the woman offered her a serving or roast venison.

There were toasts, and then yet more toasts, and despite only wetting her lips each time, Elissa found herself dizzy. It was all too much, too loud, too _important_. People came up to the main table all the time, bowing and congratulating the new queen, and if Elissa Cousland could have been forgiven a slight mistake in address or the wrong shade of expression, Queen Elissa – Queen Elissa! – had no such freedom.

At some point she dismissed the Orlesian ambassador with her most charming smile and caught herself staring, almost rudely, as a delegation of mages approached their table. She was not afraid of mages, of course; Aldous had taught her better than that, but it still paid to be cautious when people who could kill you with a mere thought were about. And then Alistair, to her surprise and shock, almost stood up before remembering himself, smiling widely at one of the mages, a gracefully aged woman with wispy silver hair and a striking figure.

_Rumour has it they were travelling with an apostate and assassins and a Circle mage, _her memory supplied in Hjordis' voice. This would be the mage, then. Elissa looked at the woman carefully and found herself the object of equal, if polite, scrutiny.

"Wynne!" Alistair said happily. "I'm glad you could make it. It's so good to see you!"

"Your Majesty," the mage said, bowing. "May I congratulate you on your marriage? Your Majesty," this to Elissa, "my most sincere felicitations. It is an honour and a privilege to be representing the Circle at this occasion."

Elissa inclined her head and murmured an appropriate response, watching from the corner of her eyes as Alistair visibly deflated, his face falling. Of course; he would have expected a different reaction from his friend. But this Wynne had had enough political acumen not to greet the king of Ferelden like a friend, especially not in front of his wife. Which meant… Elissa hastily tried to decipher the cut and symbols of Wynne's robes. "Senior Enchanter, tomorrow after I receive our subjects' oaths, there will also be private audiences. I would be very pleased if you, as a representative of the Circle of Magi, were able to attend."

The mage, Wynne, bowed. "It would be an honour, Your Majesty." She gave Alistair a quick look and a smile, almost too fleeting for anyone to notice, and yet enough to make him sit straight and smile back.

"Thank you," Alistair murmured when the mages had withdrawn. "I… she is a friend, and I keep forgetting…"

"You can talk to her tomorrow," Elissa whispered back. "We'll send them a note to come in late, and if they're the last ones, you'll have the time. Unless… is there anyone else you want to offer a private audience?"

He shook his head, looking down at his plate. "I've barely seen any of them since the battle. And it's not like I can just walk into a tavern and ask if anyone's seen a red-haired dwarf recently, can I?"

"A red-haired—" Elissa checked herself and smiled into her water glass. "I feel like a child, asking you for stories."

At that he looked up again, with a smile that felt just a little too forced. "I will be happy to oblige, Your Majesty."

Smiling back briefly, Elissa had to turn away then, as yet another couple of well-wishers were approaching. To her relief it was merely Bann Alfstanna and Ser Hjordis, both looking slightly out place in their elaborate dresses. Hjordis, towering behind Alfstanna's shoulder, looked both very beautiful and very annoyed.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties," Alfstanna said, curtseying at them both, but her smile was just a bit too ironic for Elissa's liking. Elissa was very aware whose idea her marriage had been in the first place, but there was no need to make a public spectacle out of it.

"Bann Alfstanna," she said a shade cooler than outright cordial, and watched Alfstanna's smile change from ironic to rueful and then to merely pleasant.

"My most heartfelt wishes for your long and successful reign," Alfstanna said quietly enough not to be overheard. "If there is any service I can offer to the crown, it would be my honour and my pleasure both."

Elissa nodded and smiled; apology accepted. "Ser Hjordis, your dress looks lovely. Might I inquire about your dressmaker?"

Hjordis' glower intensified a notch. Alfstanna bit her lip quickly in a last-ditch attempt to suppress a smile. "Do not tease her, Your Majesty, I beg you," she said very quietly. "She cannot bear to be parted with her sword, and the dozen daggers she is carrying do not make up for it, it seems."

Elissa's tired mind presented her simultaneously with the image of Hjordis wearing a sword strapped over the dress, and the question of how many daggers Alfstanna herself was concealing upon her person. She nodded at the ladies and took a fortifying sip of her wine as they withdrew, curtseying.

The next people to appear in front of her table as she looked up were more welcome. Hulda was all but sniffing, radiant, and Bryland was beaming widely.

"My darling g—Your Majesty!" he said, fortunately quietly enough. "Please accept the very best wishes of my family."

"Your Grace," Elissa said, smiling sincerely for what felt like the first time during the banquet. "Your ladyship. I will miss your support. I hope to see you at court often."

"My love, of _course_," Hulda whispered. She curtseyed, taking Bryland's arm and glided away.

"You do it so well," Alistair said next to her, and Elissa almost jumped. "I don't know what to say to half of them, and you just… look at them and they behave."

"Private agreements need to stay private," Elissa whispered back. "Alfstanna was on the verge of being impertinent, even if she was one of those who persuaded me to come to Denerim in the first place."

Alistair nodded, but before he could say something, a familiar figure loomed in front of the table.

"Your Majesties, may I offer my deepest congratulations," Fergus said smoothly, which didn't stop him from winking at Elissa.

"I'll need you in the private audience tomorrow afternoon, after the oath-taking," Elissa said without bothering with a reply or a preamble. "Perhaps while His Majesty is talking to the envoys from the Circle of Magi?" she asked, looking at Alistair, who nodded, looking slightly dazed.

Fergus sighed quietly. "Brocade and politics twice in one day; Elissa, have mercy!"

"What was it about stone's throws?" Elissa said sweetly.

Fergus turned to Alistair. "Your Majesty, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you happiness and good luck in your marriage."

"Was that an implied 'you'll need it'?" Alistair asked, deadpan.

Fergus bowed deeply in lieu of a reply, his shaggy hair almost swiping across the table's edge, and withdrew.

Elissa fought the urge to sigh and smiled brightly at the next person to approach them.

~o0o~

Alone, finally, mercifully alone in her dressing room, Elissa contemplated her options. Her new maid, a quiet and discreet girl hired through Hulda's endless connections, had helped her out of the thrice damned dress and combed out her hair, and had been dismissed with the most grateful smile Elissa had managed.

This was it. No turning back; night was fast approaching.

Her wedding night.

Despite what she had said to Fergus, Elissa felt more than slightly apprehensive. In all probability this would be quick and not too unpleasant, from what she had seen of Alistair's character, but men could be the strangest creatures in bed, sometimes.

Fortifying herself with a deep breath and wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her nightgown, Elissa pulled on a heavy silk robe on top of it and stepped out of her dressing room into the royal bedroom.

It was dark and, not surprisingly, quite cold, despite the blazing fire. Alistair, similarly attired in a tightly belted robe, was standing by the fireplace, looking uncomfortable.

"Good evening," Elissa said to break the ice, and feeling rather silly. "It all went rather well, didn't it?"

Alistair nodded, the firelight turning his hair red. "Good cheese, not a single assassination attempt – nice wedding, right?"

"Not a single implied insult from the nobles, and less overall hostility than I'd expected," Elissa agreed, and, paying heed to her aching back instead of to the propriety of it, sat at the edge of the bed. "Yet you don't look happy."

He looked up quickly. "It's not that! It was a nice wedding, and I'm very glad you're here, believe me. It's just…"

"Rather tiring?" Elissa asked with a sigh, stretching her legs.

"No, I mean, yes; Maker, those endless ceremonies… but, well. It's…"

Elissa blinked and raised an eyebrow in polite, if honest, confusion. "What is it?" Her mind whirled. Was he too drunk? Too tired? Was there perhaps more to the damage from those Grey Warden rituals that he'd told her about?

Alistair crossed his arms and looked away. Even in the faint light from the fireplace, Elissa could see that he was blushing. "I," he began and took a deep breath, "I haven't actually…"

"Yes?" Elissa prompted him after several moments of silence.

"I haven't ever done… you know… _it_. With anyone." His face was bright red.

Elissa blinked. "But surely…" No, a man would never lie about such things. "Why ever not?" she asked, baffled.

He finally turned to face her. "What do you think? I was raised in the Chantry since I was ten, and then I was trained as a templar, and then I became a Grey Warden and whoops, there was suddenly this thing about a Blight and, well," he seemed to run out of breath and sarcasm both. "So you could say I never had the opportunity." He ran his fingers over the mantelpiece. "Have you? Done it, I mean?"

Elissa closed her eyes, trying not to remember either the fear or the joy. "Yes," she said in a voice that felt foreign to her.

"Was it nice?" Alistair asked in a small voice.

"Nice?" Elissa looked at him again and saw the uncertainty in his expression. "Well," she said, "it wasn't... It's a bit complicated."

Alistair seemed to deflate without moving a muscle. "I know women don't… I don't want to hurt you," he said quietly but firmly. "Heirs be damned."

"Oh!" Elissa smiled involuntarily. "No, you misunderstand. It can be… very pleasant for the woman as well. It was just that the circumstances were somewhat… unusual, in the end. Or too usual, I suppose." When he opened his mouth she held out her hand. "Come sit with me."

He came closer, as slowly as a spooked cat, and finally perched as far away from her as possibly while sitting on the same side of the same bed. "Complicated how?"

Elissa pulled her knees up under her nightgown, sitting back against the bedpost. "There was a knight in my father's household," she began tentatively. "Probably the best fighter we had. We… we were friends and we liked to… Well. He never deflowered me because we didn't want to risk me getting with child, but I think we have… we tried pretty much every other thing."

Alistair's blush hadn't abated. "That sounds… fun?" he said uncertainly.

"Oh, it was," Elissa said with a smile. "He was… a good man."

"Was?"

_Go! Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!_

"He didn't survive the attack on the castle," Elissa said simply.

"I'm sorry," Alistair said, sounding sincere. "What happened then?"

Elissa frowned, surprised. "Then?"

"Because you said it was complicated. This… friend of yours, that wasn't the complicated part, was it?"

"No," Elissa said slowly. "I… may I tell you… afterwards? I don't really want to remember it when we…" She felt the heat of a blush on her own neck now. Alistair's perceptiveness was both unexpected and, at the moment, unwelcome.

"Of course," he agreed hastily, and they looked at each other in silence across the length of the bed.

Elissa felt at a complete loss. When she had allowed herself to imagine her wedding night with the king, which didn't happen often and only when she was too tired and scared to chase the thoughts away, she'd always assumed it would be a brief, impersonal affair; quick and not too painful if she was very lucky. She certainly hadn't imagined _this_.

"Well," she said slowly, forcing her hands to loosen their death grip on her robe. "May I join you?" She nodded towards the pillows, where Alistair sat huddled.

"I… yes. Of course," he said hastily, his blush coming back in full force. "You… will you show me how to..? Maker's _breath_!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't been this embarrassed since the thing with the Grand Cleric and the knickers."

Elissa opened her mouth to ask, but then thought better of it. Instead she crawled up the bed, trying not to get tangled up in her nightgown and contemplated her new husband. He seemed not unkind and apparently willing to learn. It would make things considerably easier.

"Rule one," she said, shifting closer so that they were almost touching and reaching up to brush hair away from his forehead. "No mentioning the Grand Cleric in bed."

He snorted, still nervous but breathing easier. "I like that rule."

She reached back, tangling her hand in his thick hair and gently pulling him closer. "Rule two," she whispered against his lips, "relax."

The kiss started out gentle and light, at least on Elissa's part, but it appeared that either Alistair was not _entirely_ ignorant in these matters, or he was a very quick learner. He let Elissa take the lead first, but soon he was kissing her enthusiastically and pressing close, his hands uncertain on her shoulders.

"Wait," Elissa said, drawing back, and smiled at his sudden panicked expression.

"Did I do something—?"

"No, but we're overdressed," she said, pulling at his sleeve.

"Oh." There was unmistakeable relief in his voice as he sat up and tugged at the belt of his robe. To Elissa's surprise and amusement he wore his smalls underneath. There were scars everywhere on him, she noticed absently, both deep and shallow ones. It made her a bit less self-conscious about her own, gained through years of sword and archery practice.

Taking a deep breath and feeling absurdly awkward, she sat up as well and pulled her robe and nightgown off.

Alistair's gaze went immediately to her breasts and Elissa wished for one brief moment that he should be so interested because he thought her beautiful or desired her, instead of her being merely the first naked woman he was allowed to see and touch.

His hand hovered and with a sigh she moved closer, taking it and settling it on her breast. "Go ahead."

"I'll be careful," he promised fervently. "Uh, the book said I needed to make sure you—"

"The book?" Elissa asked, startled into a smile. "The royal archives are that… extensive?"

"The palace library," he said, all attention focussed on the breast he was gently cupping. "I was… the books are…" Against her hip, even through the fabric still separating them, she could feel the reason for his distraction. Good; no apparent damage there, then.

It wasn't that bad, just lying there and letting him explore her, but Elissa was tired and impatient and while Alistair was quite handsome and by no means unpleasant to be with, he wasn't her lover and a slow exploration was probably not conductive to the business at hand.

Rolling on her back she took his free hand and raised it to her mouth, giving it a thorough lick and smiling at his startled gasp. Then she drew his fingers down along her body. "Like this," she murmured, "here."

He was attentive and careful, letting her guide her fingers, and with his lips hot on her lips and neck and anywhere else he could reach, Elissa was swiftly reaching the point where him entering her would not have been painful.

But then Alistair surprised her, stopping his clumsy exploration and sliding lower, his tongue unexpectedly hot and rough against her breast making her shudder, her first unanticipated response. Somehow he must have felt the difference, returning with renewed vigour to explore her breasts with his tongue and teeth and using his free hand to stroke her shoulder and back, maybe too roughly, but not painfully. His other hand, still guided by Elissa's but also by his own initiative was doing things that made her wonder, for a moment of breathless surprise if she could actually reach… but no, the thought broke into her body, slicing through her pleasure like a knife. He was her husband, her ally, but not her lover. There was no need to prolong this.

Not trusting her voice Elissa pulled at his smalls and he wriggled impatiently out of them, his flush now one of arousal instead of embarrassment. He rolled on top of her as soon as he was naked, and Elissa wasted no time for further thought, wrapping her legs around him and guiding him in.

Alistair froze above her, his face frozen in amazed wonder, staring down at her. "Don't—don't move," he pleaded when she tightened around him. "Please, I'm going to—"

"Well, yes," Elissa said impatiently. She longed to reach down and continue what they had started, but she could just as well do it later, in the privacy of the bathroom.

"No," Alistair said stubbornly, breathlessly, and before she could ask what he meant he reached down himself, applying everything she had just shown him, and then she was shuddering again, trying to hold the pleasure at bay, because this was pointless and wasted time and she was… she was…

"Yes," she heard herself whisper, appalled at her loss of control but not really caring because there, just one more flick of his fingers, just a little more—

And he was moving above her now, unable to keep still and moaning, shuddering with her and it was natural to keep him anchored with her legs and, giving up patience and practicality, she reached down as well and _that_ was enough to send her into the spasms of completion, over and over again; by no means her best, but unexpected enough to be a pleasant shock, despite her misgivings.

Alistair groaned loudly, his breath coming in harsh, stuttering pants as he thrust again and again, losing all the control he had been displaying – somewhat to her surprise, Elissa had to admit – and then he tensed and she felt the warmth of his release, accompanied by his choked-off gasp.

He didn't fall on her, as she had been half-expecting, but braced himself with one arm against the bed, looking down into her face, worried and flushed. "Did I hurt—? Was—were—?"

"Everything is fine," she soothed him, smiling, and making an effort to control her own breathing. "Did you enjoy it?"

"_Enjoy_—? Oh, Maker." He disengaged himself with startling gentleness and collapsed on the bed next to her. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Elissa said, still smiling. "It was…" a pleasant surprise. "It was very… nice. Thank you." She reached down onto the floor, for the handkerchief she had put into her robe for just this purpose, and cleaned herself up quickly.

"Sweet Andraste," Alistair said, still breathing heavily. "That was… I didn't imagine…"

Elissa chuckled. "No?"

He grinned at her, apparently still too afloat on the rush of it to be embarrassed. "Well, yes, of course I did, but I didn't expect it to be so…"

"Different?" Elissa asked mischievously, surprised to find herself in a good mood.

Now he did look embarrassed, but he was still grinning. "Er, yes."

Elissa yawned and pulled the covers up, wriggling underneath. They had been quite tidy, all things considered, and— "Damn," she said. "Damn and blast. I didn't think."

Alistair raised himself up, alarmed. "What? Is something wrong? Do you—"

"No, no," Elissa said with an impatient shake of her head that sent her loose hair flying. "But I almost forgot… damn." She reached to her discarded robe again, pulling out her pocket knife.

Alistair eyed it uncertainly and edged away on the bed. "Er. Elissa?"

She pulled the covers back down and examined her hip. "I didn't think about the… complicated bit," she said without looking up. "We need to preserve the appearances because the servants will gossip, and we can't risk any rumours about the paternity of the child if we can prevent it." She put her knife to her skin, having found a likely spot that seemed to have no dangerous blood vessels running under the skin.

Alistair's hand closed over hers before she could slice her skin open. "What are you doing?" he asked, sounding in equal parts surprised and angry.

Elissa looked up. "It was over a year ago, so there is no risk I could be pregnant by him," she said, sighing. "Thank the Maker for small mercies. But if there is blood on the sheets, the servants will assume I was a virgin before tonight. And my personal maid is discreet, so it—"

"Who was he?" Alistair asked with a gentleness that almost frightened her.

She looked away, fighting the urge to fidget. "A merchant on the road to South Reach. I had very little to sell to make my way there from Highever, and I had to persuade him to allow me to ride in his cart. He, well—"

"I'm sorry," Alistair said. His response was so unexpected that she looked up, startled and frowning.

He was looking down at their entwined hands that still held the knife. "Tonight was so… you were… I don't want to imagine you having to do this because you lacked money or shelter or…"

"He did not get me with child," Elissa said, "nor an illness, else I would never have—"

"No!" Alistair said, looking up at her with a frown. "No, that's not it. I… I hope it was better for you tonight than—"

"Oh." Elissa felt a surge of warmth, sweet and surprising, like so many things about him. "Oh, Alistair, that's nonsense. You were… it was very good. Truly, I didn't even think it would be as pleasant."

"Oh, ouch, thank you so much," he drawled, smiling crookedly. "And you didn't even use the knife."

Elissa flushed, mortified. "No, I'm… I apologise, that's not what I meant at all. I just meant that I never expected it could be so pleasant to be with a man who wasn't… because with Rory it took us years until we were… oh, Maker's breath!" She exhaled. "I apologise, Alistair; truly, I did not mean to slight you."

Alistair was grinning, to her relief. "I've never seen you flustered before. Good to know; I was starting to feel scared."

"Good to know I can make a fool out of myself with the best of them?" Elissa asked dryly. She tugged her hand away. "We do need to do this, you know. There will be wild rumours whatever happens; just look at what they said about Anora and Cailan. But this is a precaution I will take in any case."

He hummed absently, and then pulled the knife from her fingers before she could stop him. Without any warning, he drew the knife over his own leg; a long slice that immediately welled with blood.

"Alistair!" Elissa exclaimed, shocked. "You can't—"

"It's over a scar, look," he said calmly. "It doesn't hurt, and it'll have healed in the morning." He turned sideways, so that the blood dripped onto the bed sheets.

"Oh." Elissa said stupidly, then scrambled out of bed and went to the bathroom, to wet a cloth with a tincture of elfroot. Alistair sighed but let her wash out the cut before climbing under the covers. Tossing the cloth into the fire, Elissa joined him, suddenly almost dizzy with exhaustion.

"G'night," Alistair mumbled into his pillow.

"Good night," Elissa replied absently, watching him. She was a little sore, a little confused, but mostly simply tired.

Her hand encountered something hard under her pillow, and after a second she recognised it as her pocket knife, folded closed. Clenching her hand around it she smiled at the back of Alistair's head and closed her eyes.

All things considered…

Sleep claimed her before she could finish the thought.


End file.
